him, and dived into the river, coming up nearly opposite the horrified
man; and then, as he went down with the current which took him over to
the opposite side, he invited the farmer to come in. When he landed
Speug bade the farmer good-bye with much courtesy, and hoped he would
enjoy himself among his Indian friends.
"Wait till I cross," shouted the farmer, "and I'll be after ye, and
though I ransack Muirtown I'll find ye out. Ye're a gey like spectacle
to go back to the town. Ye'll no escape me this time, whoever ye be,"
and the farmer hurried down the island to his boat, which he had loosely
fastened to one of the trees. When he reached the spot it was not to be
found, but he could see his boat lying in its accustomed place on the
other side, chained and padlocked. For the other three trappers had
gathered all their possessions and clothed themselves like gentlemen,
and taking Speug's clothes with them, ferried themselves across with
rapidity and dignity. Once more Speug bade the farmer good-night,
extending both hands to him in farewell, but now the one hand was in
front of the other, and the thumb of the inner hand attached to Speug's
nose. He thoughtfully offered to take any message to Muirtown gaol or
to the Provost that the farmer desired, and departed, wishing him a
pleasant night and telling him where he would find the shank of a ham.
As Peter dressed himself, his friends could only look at him in silent
admiration, till at the thought of the renegade trapped so neatly and
confined for at least a night on his own island, Howieson slapped his
legs and triumphed aloud. And the four returned to Muirtown and to
civilisation full of joy.
GUERILLA WARFARE
XII
There is no person in a Scots country town to be compared with a Bailie
for authority and dignity, and Bailie MacConachie, of Muirtown, was a
glory to his order. Provosts might come and go--creatures of three
years--but this man remained in office for ever, and so towered above
his brethren of the same kind, that the definite article was attached to
his title, and to quote "the Bailie" without his name was the recognised
form and an end to all controversy. Nature had been kind to him, and,
entering into the designs of Providence, had given him a bodily
appearance corresponding to his judicial position. He stood six feet in
his boots, and his erect carriage conveyed the impression of six inches
more. His waistband passed forty-eight inches; but, to do the great man
justice, his chest measure was forty-two. His chin rested in folds upon
his stock, and his broad, clean-shaven, solemn, immovable countenance
suggested unfathomable depths of wisdom. His voice was deep and husky,
and the clearance of his throat with which he emphasised his
deliverances could be heard half a street away and was like the sealing
of a legal deed. Never since he became a Bailie had he seen his
boots--at least upon his feet--and his gait, as became his elevation,
was a stately amble, as when a huge merchant-man puts out to sea,
driving the water before her bow and yet swaying gently from side to
side in her progress. Sunday and Saturday--except when officiating at
the Sacrament, and of course he was then in full blacks--the Bailie wore
exactly the same kind of dress--a black frock-coat, close buttoned, and
grey trousers, with a dark blue stock, his one concession to colour. As
his position was quite assured, being, in the opinion of many, second
only to that of the Sheriff and the Fiscal, he could afford to wear his
clothes to the bone, and even to carry one or two stains upon his paunch
as a means of identification. Walking through the town, he stood at his
full height, with his hands folded upon the third button of his coat;
but when he reached the North Meadow, on his way home, and passed the
Seminary, he allowed his head to droop, and clasped his hands behind
after the manner of the great Napoleon, and then it was understood that
the Bailie's mind was wrestling with the affairs of State. People made
way for him upon the streets as he sailed along, and were pleased with a
recognition, which always took the form of a judgment from the Bench,
even though it dealt only with the weather or the crops.
There was no occasion, either in the Council or in the Presbytery, when
the Bailie did not impress; but every one agreed that he rose to his
height on the Bench. No surprise, either of evidence or of law, could be
sprung on him, no sensational incident ever stirred him, no excitement
of the people ever carried him away. He was the terror of the publicans,
and would refuse a license if he saw fit without any fear; but if the
teetotalers tried to dictate to him, he would turn upon them and rend
his own friends without mercy. When any Muirtown sinner was convicted in
his court he would preface his sentence with a ponderous exhortation,
and if the evidence were not sufficient he would allow the accused to go
as an act of grace, but warn him never to appear again, lest a worse
thing should befall him. There are profane people in every community,
and there were those in Muirtown who used to say in private places that
the Bailie was only a big drum, full of emptiness and sound; but the
local lawyers found it best to treat him with respect; and until the
Seminary boys took his Majesty in hand he had never been worsted. No
doubt an Edinburgh advocate, who had been imported into a petty case to
browbeat the local Bench, thought he had the Bailie on the hip when that
eminent man, growing weary of continual allusions to "the defunct," said
that if he heard anything more about "the defunct" he would adjourn the
case for a week, and allow him to appear in his own interests. Then the
advocate explained with elaborate politeness that he was afraid that
even the summons of the Muirtown Bench could not produce this party, and
that his appearance, if he came, might secure the court to himself.
"You mean," said the Bailie, eyeing the advocate with unmoved dignity,
"that the man is dead. Quite so! Quite so! But let me tell you that if
you had been a Muirtown solicitor you would have had your case better
prepared, and not wasted our time with the talk of dead people. You are
still young, and when you have had more experience you will know that it
is only the evidence of living witnesses that can be received in a court
of justice. Proceed with your case and confine yourself to relevant
evidence--yes, sir, relevant evidence."
It only shows the inherent greatness of the man, that in private life
the Bailie followed the calling of an Italian warehouseman, which
really, in plain words, was the same thing as a superior grocer, nor was
he above his trade for eight hours of the day. When not engaged in
official work, he could be found behind his counter, and yet even there
he seemed to be upon the Bench. His white apron he wore as a robe of
office, he heard what the ladies had to say with a judicial air,
correcting them if they hinted at any tea costing less than four and
sixpence per pound, commanding a cheese to be brought forward for
inspection, as if it had been a prisoner in the dock, probing it with
searching severity and giving a judgment upon it from which there was no
appeal. He distinguished between customers, assigning to each such
provisions as were suitable for their several homes, inquiring in a
paternal manner after the welfare of their children, and when the case
was concluded--that is to say, the tea and the sugar bought--even
condescending to a certain high level of local gossip. When the customer
left the shop it was with a sense of privilege, as if one had been
called up for a little to sit with the judge. It was understood that
only people of a certain standing were included among the Bailie's
customers, and the sight of the Countess of Kilspindie's carriage at his
door marked out his province of business. Yet if a little lassie
stumbled into the shop and asked for a pennyworth of peppermints, he
would order her to be served, adding a peppermint or two more, and some
good advice which sent away the little woman much impressed; for though
the Bailie committed one big, blazing indiscretion, and suffered
terribly in consequence thereof, he was a good and honest man.
The Bailie made only one public mistake in his life, but it was on the
largest scale, and every one wondered that a man so sagacious should
have deliberately entered into a feud with the boys of the Seminary. The
Bailie had battled in turn with the Licensed Victuallers, who as a
fighting body are not to be despised, and with the Teetotalers, whom
every wise man who loves peace of mind leaves alone; with the Tories,
who were his opponents, and with the Liberals, his own party, when he
happened to disagree with them; with the Town Council, whom he
vanquished, and with the Salmon Fishery Board, whom he brought to terms;
but all those battles were as nothing to a campaign with the boys. There
is all the difference in the world between a war with regulars,
conducted according to the rules of military science, and a series of
guerilla skirmishes, wherein all the chances are with the alert and
light-armed enemy. Any personage who goes to war with boys is bound to
be beaten, for he may threaten and attack, but he can hardly ever hurt
them, and never possibly can conquer them; and they will buzz round him
like wasps, will sting him and then be off, will put him to shame before
the public, will tease him on his most sensitive side, will lie in wait
for him in unexpected places with an ingenuity and a perseverance and a
mercilessness which are born of the Devil, who in such matters is the
unfailing ally of all genuine boys.
It was no doubt annoying to a person of the Bailie's dignity and
orderliness to see the terrace in which the Seminary stood, and which
had the honour of containing his residence, turned into a playground,
and outrageous that Jock Howieson, playing rounders in front of a
magistrate's residence, should send the ball crack through the
plate-glass window of a magistrate's dining-room. It was fearsome
conduct on the part of Jock, and even the ball itself should have known
better; but the Bailie might have been certain that Jock did not intend
to lose his ball and his game also, and the maddest thing the magistrate
could do was to make that ball a cause of war. It was easy enough to go
to Bulldog's class-room and lodge a complaint, but as he could not
identify the culprit, and no one would tell on Jock, the Bailie departed
worsted, and the address which he gave the boys was received with
derision. When he turned from the boys to the master, he fared no
better, for Bulldog who hated tell-tales and had no particular respect
for Bailies, told the great man plainly that his (Bulldog's)
jurisdiction ceased at the outer door of the Seminary, and that it was
not his business to keep order in the Terrace. Even the sergeant, when
the Bailie commanded him to herd the boys in the courtyard, forgot the
respect due to a magistrate, and refused point-blank, besides adding a
gratuitous warning, which the Bailie deeply resented, to let the matter
drop, or else he'd repent the day when he interfered with the laddies.
"I was a sergeant in the Black Watch, Bailie, and I was through the
Crimean War--ye can see my medals; but it takes me all my time to keep
the pack in hand within my ain jurisdiction; and if ye meddle wi' them
outside yir jurisdiction, I tell ye, Bailie, they'll mak' a fool o' ye
afore they're done w' ye in face o' all Muirtown. There's a way o'
managin' them, but peety ye if ye counter them. Noo, when they broke the
glass in the Count's windows, if he didna pretend that he couldna
identify them and paid the cost himself! He may be French, but he's
long-headed, for him and the laddies are that friendly there's naething
they woudna do for him. As ye value yir peace o' mind, Bailie, and yir
poseetion in Muirtown, dinna quarrel wi' the Seminary. They're fine
laddies as laddies go; but for mischief, they're juist born deevils."
There is a foolish streak in every man, and the Bailie went on to his
doom. As the authorities of the Seminary refused to do their duty--for
which he would remember them in the Council when questions of salary and
holidays came up--the Bailie fell back on the police, who had their own
thoughts of his policy, but dared not argue with a magistrate; and one
morning an able-bodied constable appeared on the scene and informed the
amazed school that he was there to prevent them playing on the Terrace.
No doubt he did his duty according to his light, but neither he nor six
constables could have quelled the Seminary any more than you can hold
quicksilver in your hand. When he walked with stately step up and down
the broad pavement before Bulldog's windows, the Seminary went up and
played opposite the Bailie's house, introducing his name into
conversation, with opprobrious remarks regarding the stoutness of his
person, and the emptiness of his head, and finally weaving the story of
his life into a verse of poetry which was composed by Speug, but is not
suitable for a book of family reading. If the constable, with the fear
of the magistrate before his eyes, went up to stand as a guard of honour
before the Bailie's house, the school went down then to the Russian guns
and held a meeting of triumph, challenging the constable to come back to
the Seminary, and telling him what they would do to him. They formed a
bodyguard round him some days, keeping just out of reach, and marched
along with him, backward and forward; other days they chaffed and teased
him till his life was a burden to him, for he had no power to arrest
them, and in his heart he sympathised with them. And then, at last,
being weary of the constable, the school turned its attention to the
Bailie.
One afternoon a meeting of choice spirits was held in the North Meadow,
beyond the supervision of the constable, and after the Bailie had been
called every name of abuse known to the Seminary, and Speug had
ransacked the resources of the stable yard in profanity, he declared
that the time had now come for active operation, and that the war must
be carried into the enemy's country. Speug declared his conviction in
the vernacular of the school, which is here translated into respectable
language, that the Bailie was a gentleman of doubtful birth and
discreditable pedigree, that his conduct as a boy was beyond
description, and that his private life was stained with every vice; that
his intellect would give him a right to be confined in the county
asylum, and that he had also qualified by his way of living for the
county gaol; that he didn't wash more than once a year, and that the
smell of him was like to that from a badger's hole; that it was a pity
he didn't attend to his own business, and that he had very little
business to do; that he would soon be bankrupt, and that if he wasn't
bankrupt already it was only because he cheated with his change; that he
sanded his sugar, and that his weights and measures were a scandal; but
that the Seminary must do what they could to lead him to honest ways and
teach him industry, and that he (Speug) with the aid of one or two
friends would do his best for the reformation of Bailie MacConachie, and
in this way return good for evil, as Mr. Byles, assistant in the
department of mathematics, used to teach. And the school waited with
expectation for the missionary effort upon which Speug with the
assistance of Howieson and Bauldie, was understood to be engaged.
Next Friday evening an art committee met in a stable-loft on the
premises of Mr. McGuffie senior, and devoted their skill--which was
greater than they ever showed in their work--to the elaboration of a
high-class advertisement which was to be shown round a certain district
in Muirtown, and which they hoped would stimulate the custom at Bailie
MacConachie's shop. Howieson had provided two large boards such as might
be hung one on the breast and one on the back of a man, and those Speug
had cut to the proper size and pasted over with thick white paper. Upon
them Bauldie, who had quite a talent for drawing, wrought diligently for
a space of two hours, with the assistance and encouragement of his
friends, and when they set the boards up against the wall the committee
was greatly pleased. Speug read aloud the advertisement with much
unction--
_CHEAP TEA! CHEAP TEA! CHEAP TEA!_
SALE OF BANKRUPT STOCK
AT
BAILIE MACCONACHIE'S
_THE FAMOUS ITALIAN WAREHOUSEMAN_,
49, ST. ANDREW STREET.
ELEVENPENCE-HALFPENNY PER POUND.
_Sale Begins at One o'clock on Saturday._
GLASS OF WHISKY FREE TO ALL PURCHASERS.
_Poor People Specially Invited._
_Be early._ _Be early._
BAILIE MACCONACHIE'S
_CHEAP TEA! CHEAP TEA! CHEAP TEA!_
The three artists contained themselves till they came to the last "Cheap
Tea!" then Jock knocked Bauldie down among the hay, and Speug fell on
the top of them, and they rolled in one bundle of delight, arising from
time to time to study the advertisement and taste its humour.
"'Bankrupt stock!'" cried Bauldie, "and him an Elder of the Kirk!
That'll learn him to be complaining of his windows."
"'Poor people specially invited,' and calls himself an Italian
warehouseman. I would give half a dozen ginger-beer to see Lady
Kilspindie there," stammered Jock with delight.
"'Glass of whisky free!'"--and Speug took a fresh turn in the hay--"it's
against law to drink whisky in a grocer's shop--and him a magistrate!
He'll no meddle wi' the Seminary again."
"Be early!'" chanted Jock, "'be early!' My word! They'll be there, all
the waufies of Muirtown; there'll no be room in the street. 'Glass of
whisky free!'" and Jock wiped his eyes with his knuckles.
Upon Saturday, at noon, just as the Bailie was going along the Terrace
to his house and congratulating himself that on that day at least he was
free from all annoyance by the way, another character of Muirtown had
started out through a very different part of the fair city. London John
was as well known in Muirtown as the Bailie himself, and in his way was
quite as imposing. Tall and gaunt, without an ounce of superfluous
flesh, and with an inscrutable countenance, dressed in a long frock-coat
which he had worn for at least a quarter of a century, and a tall hat
which he had rescued from an ashpit, with the remains of a pair of
trousers, and something in the form of a shirt which was only seen when
he laid aside the outer garment for active service, London John stalked
with majesty through the streets of Muirtown. He earned his living as a
sandwich man, or by carrying in coals, or by going errands, or by
emptying ashpits. He could neither read nor write, but he remembered a
number and never forgot what was due to him, and the solitary subject on
which he spoke was the wonders of London, where it was supposed he had
lost such reason as he had at once possessed. His coming was always
welcome in the poorer parts of the town, for the sake of his discourse
on London, but never had he received such an ovation before in the
Vennel, which was largely inhabited by tramps and tinkers, unskilled
labourers and casuals of all kinds. The cheap tea might not have aroused
their enthusiasm, but at the mention of a free glass of whisky the
deepest emotions of the Vennel were stirred.
"Tea at elevenpence halfpenny," cried Tinkler Tam, who jogged round the
country with petty wares, which he sold in exchange for rabbit-skins,
old clothes, and other débris of a house, "and a glass of whisky free!
Ma certes? let me get a sight o' that," and London John was brought to a
standstill while Tam read aloud the advertisement to a crowd who could
appreciate the cheapness of the tea, and whose tongues began to hang out
at the very thought of the whisky.
"A lee!" cried the travelling merchant, touched at the suggestion of
such deceit. "He daurna do sic a thing, else his shop would be gutted.
Na, na, it reads plain as a pikestaff; ye pay elevenpence halfpenny and
ye get a pound of tea and a glass of whisky. I count it handsome o' the
Bailie; and if they didna say he was a teetotaler! It's awfu' how a man
is abused."
"He gave me six days in the court," said Jess Mitchell, who had had a
difference of opinion with another lady in the Vennel and received the
Bailie's best attention from the Bench, "and if I hadna to hear him
preach a sermon as long as my leg besides--confound him for a
smooth-tongued, psalm-singin', bletherin' old idiot! But I bear him no
grudge; I'll hae a taste o' that whisky, though I'm no mindin' so much
about the tea. The sooner we're at the place the better, for I'll be
bound there'll be more tea bought this day in Muirtown than a' the last
year." And there was a general feeling that the Vennel had better make
no delay, lest some other locality should obtain the first call.
As London John went on his way the news spread through the back streets
and closes, and the Bailie's generous invitation fell on responsive
ears. And if any person was inclined to doubt there was the
advertisement in plain terms, and over the board with its engaging news
the austere and unmoved countenance of London John. That worthy could
give no information about the remarkable placard, not even from whom he
received it; but he was quite sure that he was to take it through the
Vennel and neighbouring streets for two hours, and that he had received
a shilling for his labour, which he proposed to spend at Bailie
MacConachie's when his task was done. He also explained that in London,
where he used to reside, whisky ran like water, and tea could be had for
the asking. But his hearers had no interest that day in London.
It struck the Bailie as he returned from midday dinner, and long before
he reached St. Andrew's Street, that something was happening, and he
wondered whether they were changing the cavalry at the barracks. People
looked curiously at him, and having made as though they would have
spoken, passed on, shaking their heads. When he turned into the familiar
street, down which he was accustomed to parade with a double weight of
dignity, an enlivening spectacle met his eyes. Every shopkeeper was out
at his door, and would indeed have been along the street, had he not
judged it wiser to protect his property, and the windows above the shop
were full of faces. Opposite his own most respectable place of business
the street was crammed from side to side with a seething mob, through
which Mr. McGuffie senior was striving to drive a dogcart with slender
success and complaining loudly of obstruction. Respectable working women
were there, together with their husbands, having finished the day's
work; country folk who dropped into town on the Saturday had been
attracted to the scene; the riff-raff of Muirtown had come out from
their dens and lodging-houses, together with that casual population
which has nothing particular to do and is glad of any excitement. They
were of various kinds and different degrees of respectability, but they
were all collected in answer to Bailie MacConachie's generous offer;
they were also all ready to buy the tea, and a large number of them
particularly ready for the whisky. The first to arrive on the scene had
been Tinkler Tam, who put down elevenpence-halfpenny in copper money
upon the counter with a crash, and informed the Bailie's senior
assistant that to save time he would just take the whisky while they
were making up the tea, and was promptly ordered out of the shop for an
impudent, drunken blackguard. Thomas, in the course of a varied life,
was not unaccustomed to be called disrespectful names, and it was not
the first time he had been requested to leave high class premises; but
for once, at least, he had a perfectly good conscience and a strong
ground of complaint.
"Impident, am I, and drunken, did ye say, ye meeserable, white-faced
effeegy of a counter-jumper? If I werena present on business I would put
such a face on you that yir mother wouldna know you; but I'm here wi' my
friends" (great applause from the doorway, where the crowd was listening
to the interview) "for a commercial transaction. Div ye no ken, ye
misshapen object, that we're here on a special invitation of yir master,
sent this mornin' to the Vennel?" (strong confirmation given under oath
by Jess Mitchell), "and I'll juist give you the terms thereof, ye
two-faced, leein', unprincipled wratch" (enthusiastic support from the
street).