After Ronald had been removed from the court the woman was questioned.
She asserted that her master was away, and was, she believed, in France,
and that in his absence she often let lodgings to strangers. That two
days before, a man whom she knew not came and hired a room for a few
days. That on the evening before, hearing a noise in the attic, she went
up with him, and met Ronald coming down stairs. That when Ronald said
there were strange men outside the house, and when immediately afterwards
there was a great knocking at the door, the man drew his sword and
ordered her to come up stairs with him. That he then made her assist him
to pull up a plank, and thrust it from the attic to the wall, and ordered
her to replace it when he had gone. She supposed he was a thief flying
from justice, but was afraid to refuse to do his bidding.
"And why did you not tell us all this, woman, when we came in?" Mr.
M'Whirtle asked sternly. "Had ye told us we might have overtaken him."
"I was too much frightened," the woman answered. "There were swords out
and blood running, and men using words contrary both to the law and
Scripture. I was frighted enough before, and I just put my apron over my
head and sat down till the hubbub was over. And then as no one asked me
any questions, and I feared I might have done wrong in aiding a thief to
escape, I just held my tongue."
No cross questioning could elicit anything further from the woman, who
indeed seemed frightened almost out of her senses, and the magistrate at
last ordered her to return to the house and remain there under the
supervision of the constable until again sent for.
Andrew Anderson returned home sorely disturbed in his mind. Hitherto he
had told none, even of his intimates, that the boy living in his house
was the son of Colonel Leslie, but had spoken of him as the child of an
old acquaintance who had left him to his care. The open announcement of
Ronald that he was the son of one of the leaders in the last rebellion,
coming just as it did when the air was thick with rumours of another
rising, troubled him greatly; and there was the fact that the boy had,
unknown to him, been learning fencing; and lastly this interference,
which had enabled a notorious emissary of the Pretender to escape arrest.
"The boy's story may be true as far as it goes," he said to his wife when
relating to her the circumstances, "for I have never known him to tell a
lie; but I cannot think it was all the truth. A boy does not take such a
dreadful leap as that, and risk breaking his neck, simply because he sees
two men near the house. He must somehow have known that man was there,
and went to give him warning. Now I think of it, he passed through the
shop when Peter M'Whirtle was talking to me about it, though, indeed, he
did not know then where the loon was in hiding. The boy went out soon
afterwards, and must somehow have learned, if indeed he did not know
before. Janet, I fear that you and I have been like two blind owls with
regard to the boy, and I dread sorely that my brother Malcolm is at the
bottom of all this mischief."
This Mrs. Anderson was ready enough to credit, but she was too much
bewildered and horrified to do more than to shake her head and weep.
"Will they cut off his head, Andrew?" she asked at last.
"No, there's no fear of that; but they may imprison him for a bit, and
perhaps give him a good flogging--the young rascal. But there, don't
fret over it, Janet. I will do all I can for him. And in truth I think
Malcolm is more to blame than he is; and we have been to blame too for
letting the lad be so much with him, seeing that we might be sure he
would put all sorts of notions in the boy's head."
"But what is to be done, Andrew? We cannot let the poor lad remain in
prison."
"We have no choice in the matter, Janet. In prison he is, and in prison
he has to remain until he is let out, and I see no chance of that. If it
had only been a brawl with the watch it could have been got over easily
enough; but this is an affair of high treason--aiding and abetting the
king's enemies, and the rest of it. If it were in the old times they
would put the thumb screws on him to find out all he knew about it, for
they will never believe he risked his life in the plot; and the fact that
his father before him was in arms for the Chevalier tells that way. I
should not be surprised if an order comes for him to be sent to London to
be examined by the king's councillors; but I will go round now and ask
the justices what they think of the matter."
His tidings when he returned were not encouraging; the general opinion of
the magistrates being that Ronald was certainly mixed up in the Jacobite
plot, that the matter was altogether too serious to be disposed of by
them, being of the nature of high treason, and that nothing could be done
until instructions were received from London. No clue had been obtained
as to the whereabouts of the man who had escaped, and it was thought
probable that he had at once dropped beyond the walls and made for the
west.
Malcolm arrived ten days later from a journey in Lancashire, and there
was a serious quarrel between him and Andrew on his presenting himself at
the house.
"It is not only that you led the lad into mischief, Malcolm, but that you
taught him to do it behind my back."
"You may look at it in that way if you will, Andrew, and it's natural
enough from your point of view; but I take no blame to myself. You treated
the boy as if he had been your son, and I thank you with all my heart for
your kindness to him; but I could not forget Leslie of Glenlyon, and I do
not blame myself that I have kept the same alive in his mind also. It was
my duty to see that the young eagle was not turned into a barn door fowl;
but I never thought he was going to use his beak and his claws so soon."
"A nice thing you will have to tell his father, that owing to your
teachings his son is a prisoner in the Tower, maybe for life. But
there--there's no fear of that. You will never have to render that account,
for there's no more chance of your ever hearing more of him than there is
of my becoming king of Scotland. It's bad enough that you have always
been a ne'er do well yourself without training that unfortunate boy to
his ruin."
"Well, well, Andrew, I will not argue with you, and I don't blame you at
being sore and angry over the matter; nor do I deny what you have said
about myself; it's true enough, and you might say worse things against me
without my quarreling with ye over it. However, the less said the better.
I will take myself off and think over what's to be done."
"You had better come up and have your supper with us," Andrew said,
mollified by his brother's humility.
"Not for twenty golden guineas, Andrew, would I face Mistress Janet. She
has borne with me well, though I know in her heart she disapproves of me
altogether; but after this scrape into which I have got the boy I daren't
face her. She might not say much, but to eat with her eye upon me would
choke me."
Malcolm proceeded at once to the establishment of his friend Macklewain.
"This is a nice kettle of fish, Malcolm, about young Leslie. I have had
the justices down here, asking me all sorts of questions, and they have
got into their minds that I taught him not only swordplay but treason,
and they have been threatening to put me in the stocks as a vagabond; but
I snapped my fingers in their faces, saying I earned my money as honestly
as they did, and that I concern myself in no way in politics, but teach
English officers and the sons of Glasgow tradesmen as well as those of
Highland gentlemen. They were nicely put out, I can tell you; but I
didn't care for that, for I knew I was in the right of it. But what on
earth made the young cock meddle in this matter? How came he to be mixed
up in a Jacobite plot? Have you got your finger in it?"
"Not I, James; and how it happens that he is concerned in it is more than
I can guess. I know, of course, his heart is with the king over the
water; but how he came to get his hand into the pie is altogether beyond
me."
"The people here are well nigh mad about it. I know not who the gallant
who has escaped is; but it is certain that his capture was considered a
very important one, and that the justices here expected to have gained no
small credit by his arrest, whereas now they will be regarded as fools
for letting him slip through their fingers."
"I cannot for the life of me make out how he came to be mixed up in such
a matter. No one but you and I could have known that he was a lad of
mettle, who might be trusted in such a business. It can hardly be that
they would have confided any secrets to him; still, the fact that he was
in the house with the man they are in search of, and that he drew and
risked his life and certain imprisonment to secure his escape, shows that
he must have been heart and soul in the plot."
"And what do you think of doing, Malcolm?"
"I shall get him out somehow. I can lay hands on a score or two or more
of our old comrades here in Glasgow, and I doubt not that they will all
strike a blow with me for Leslie's son, to say nothing of his being a
follower of the Stuarts."
"You are not thinking, man, of attacking the jail! That would be a
serious matter. The doors are strong, and you would have the soldiers, to
say nought of the town guard and the citizens, upon you before you had
reached him."
"No, no, James, I am thinking of no such foolishness. I guess that they
will not be trying him for withstanding the watch, that's but a small
matter; they will be sending him south for the king's ministers to get
out of him what he knows about the Jacobite plot and the names of all
concerned, and it's upon the road that we must get him out of their
hands. Like enough they will only send four troopers with him, and we can
easily master them somewhere in the dales."
"It's more like, Malcolm, they will send him by ship. They will know well
enough that if the lad knows aught there will be plenty whose interest it
is to get him out of their hands. I think they will take the safer way of
putting him on board ship."
"Like enough they will," Malcolm agreed, "and in that case it will be a
harder job than I deemed it. But at any rate I mean to try. Ronald's not
the lad to turn traitor; he will say nothing whatever they do to him, you
may be sure, and he may lie for years in an English prison if we do not
get him out of their hands before he gets there. At any rate what we have
got to do now is to mark every ship in the port sailing for London, and
to find out whether passages are taken for a prisoner and his guard in
any of them. I will make that my business, and between times get a score
of trusty fellows together in readiness to start if they should send him
by land; but I doubt not that you are right, and that he will be taken
off by ship."
The days of waiting passed slowly to Ronald, and Andrew Anderson once or
twice obtained permission to see him. The bailie wisely abstained from
any reproaches, and sought only to persuade him to make a clean breast of
the business, and to tell all he knew about a plot which could but end in
failure and ruin to all concerned. Although his belief in Ronald's
truthfulness was great he could not credit that the story which he had
told contained all the facts of the matter. To the bailie it seemed
incredible that merely from an abstract feeling in favour of the Stuarts
Ronald would have risked his life and liberty in aiding the escape of a
Jacobite agent, unless he was in some way deeply involved in the plot;
and he regarded Ronald's assurances to the contrary as the outcome of
what he considered an entirely mistaken sense of loyalty to the Stuart
cause.
"It's all very well, Ronald," he said, shaking his head sadly; "but when
they get you to London they will find means to make you open your mouth.
They have done away with the thumb screws and the rack, but there are
other ways of making a prisoner speak, and it would be far better for you
to make a clean breast of it at once. Janet is grieving for you as if you
were her own son, and I cannot myself attend to my business. Who would
have thought that so young a lad should have got himself mixed up in such
sair trouble!"
"I have really told you all, bailie, though you will not believe me, and
I am sorry indeed for the trouble I have brought upon you and my aunt"--for
Ronald had from the first been taught to address the bailie and his
wife as if Malcolm Anderson had been his real father; "anyhow I wish they
would settle it. I would rather know the worst than go on from day to day
expecting something that never happens."
"You have to wait, Ronald, till word comes from London. If they write
from there that your case can be dealt with merely for the assault upon
the watch I can promise you that a few weeks in jail are all that you are
like to have; but I fear that there is little chance of that. They are
sure to send for you to London, and whether you will ever come back alive
the gude Lord only knows. We know what came of treason thirty years ago,
and like enough they will be even more severe now, seeing that they will
hold that folks have all the less right to try and disturb matters so
long settled."
"Have you seen Malcolm?" Ronald asked, to change the conversation.
"Ay, lad, I have seen him, and the meeting was not altogether a pleasant
one for either of us."
"I hope you have not quarrelled with him on my account!" Ronald said
eagerly.
"We have not exactly quarrelled, but we have had words. I could not but
tell him my opinion as to his learning you to take such courses, but we
parted friends; but I doubt it will be long before Janet can see him with
patience."
The jailer, who was present at the interview, here notified that the
bailie's time was up.
"I shall see you again, Ronald, before they take you south. I would that
I could do more to help you besides just coming to see you."
"I know you cannot, uncle. I have got into the scrape and must take the
consequences; but if I were placed in the same position I should do it
again."
A few days afterwards, as he was eating his ration of prison bread,
Ronald found in it a small pellet of paper, and on opening it read the
words: "Keep up your courage, friends are at work for you. You will hear
more yet of M. A."
Ronald was glad to know that his old friend was thinking of him, but,
knowing how strong was the prison, he had little hopes that Malcolm would
be able to effect anything to help him. Still the note gave him comfort.
Three days later Andrew called again to bid him goodbye, telling him that
orders had been received from London that he was to be sent thither by
ship.
"I should like to have seen Malcolm before I went, if I could," Ronald
said.
"I have not seen him for several days," the bailie said. "I have sent
down several times to the house where he lodges, but he is always away;
but, whether or no, there would be no chance of your seeing him. I myself
had difficulty in getting leave to see you, though a bailie and known to
be a loyal citizen. But Malcolm knows that there would be no chance of
one with such a character as his getting to see you, and that it would
draw attention to him even to ask such a thing, which, if he has a hand
in this mad brain plot, he would not wish."
"Malcolm would not mind a straw whether they kept a watch on him or not,"
Ronald said. "Will you tell him, when you see him next, that I got his
message?"
"What message? I have given you no message that I know of."
"He will know what I mean. Tell him, whether aught comes of it or not I
thank him, and for all his kindness to me, as I do you and Aunt Janet."
At the same time with the order that Ronald should be sent to London the
authorities of Glasgow received an intimation that the ministers felt
great surprise at the lukewarmness which had been shown in allowing so
notorious and important an enemy of his majesty to escape, and that the
king himself had expressed marked displeasure at the conduct of the city
authorities in the matter. Greatly mortified at the upshot of an affair
from which they had hoped to obtain much credit from government, and
believing it certain that there were many greatly interested in getting
Ronald out of the hands of his captors, the authorities took every
precaution to prevent it. He was taken down to the river side under a
strong escort, and in addition to the four warders who were to be in
charge of the prisoner as far as London, they put on board twelve men of
the city guard. These were to remain with the ship until she was well out
at sea, and then to return in a boat which the vessel was to tow behind
her.
Ronald could not but smile when he saw all these formidable preparations
for his safety. At the same time he felt that any hope he had entertained
that Malcolm might, as the message hinted, make an attempt at rescue were
blighted. The vessel dropped down with the tide. The orders of the
justices had been so strict and urgent that the whole of the men placed
on board kept a vigilant watch.
Just as they were abreast of Dumbarton the sound of oars was heard, and
presently a boat was seen approaching. As it got nearer two men were seen
to be rowing, and two others seated in the stern; but as the craft was a
large one there was room for others to be lying in the bottom. The
constable in charge shouted to the boat to keep them off.
"Stop rowing," he cried, "and come no nearer. If you do we fire, and as I
don't want to shed your blood I warn you that I have sixteen armed men
here."
As his words were emphasized by the row of men, who with levelled muskets
ranged themselves along at the side of the ship, the boat ceased rowing.
"What are you afraid of?" one of the men in the stern shouted. "Cannot a
fisherman's boat row out without being threatened with shooting? What are
you and your sixteen armed men doing on board? Are you expecting a French
fleet off the coast? And do you think you will beat them off if they
board you? How long have the Glasgow traders taken to man their ships
with fighting men?"
Ronald was in the cabin under the poop; it opened on to the waist, and
received its light from an opening in the door, at which two armed men
had stationed themselves when the boat was heard approaching. Had the
cabin possessed a porthole through which he could have squeezed himself
he would long before have jumped overboard and tried to make his escape
by swimming under cover of the darkness. He now strove to force the door
open, for he recognized Malcolm's voice, and doubted not that his friend
had spoken in order to let him know that he was there, that he might if
possible leap over and swim to the boat; but it was fastened strongly
without, and the guards outside shouted that they would fire unless he
remained quiet.
No reply was made to the taunts of the man in the boat, and slowly, for
the wind was but just filling her sails, the vessel dropped down the
river, and the boat was presently lost sight of.
In the morning the breeze freshened. It was not till the ship was eight
miles beyond the mouth of the river that the boat was pulled up
alongside, and the guard, taking their places on board, hoisted sail and
started on their return to Glasgow.
Once fairly at sea Ronald was allowed to leave his cabin. Now that he was
enjoying the fresh air his spirits soon recovered the tone which they had
lost somewhat during his three weeks' confinement in prison, and he
thoroughly enjoyed his voyage. The man who was in charge of the guard had
at first wished to place some restriction on his going about on board as
he chose; but the crew sided with the young prisoner, and threw such
ridicule on the idea that four warders and a head constable were afraid,
even for a moment, to lose sight of a boy on board a ship at sea, that he
gave way, and allowed Ronald free liberty of action, although he warned
his subordinates that they must nor relax their caution for a moment.
"The crew are all with him. They think it a shame that a lad like this
should be hauled to London as a prisoner charged with treasonable
practices; and sailors, when they once get an idea into their head, are
as obstinate as Highland cattle. I have told them that he drew a sword
and held the staircase against us all while a noted traitor made his
escape, and that he ran one of us through the shoulder, and they only
shouted with laughter, and said he was a brave young cock. Like as not,
if they had a chance, these men would aid him to escape, and then we
should have to answer for it, and heavily too; loss of place and
imprisonment would be the least of what we might expect; so though, while
at sea and in full daylight he can do as he pleases, we must be doubly
vigilant at night, or in port if the vessel should have to put in."
Accordingly, to the great disgust of the sailors the watch by turns stood
sentry outside Ronald's door at night, thereby defeating a plan which the
sailors had formed of lowering a boat the first night they passed near
land, and letting Ronald make his escape to shore.
The wind was favourable until the vessel rounded the Land's End. After
that it became baffling and fickle, and it was more than three weeks
after the date of her sailing from Glasgow that the vessel entered the
mouth of the Thames. By this time Ronald's boyish spirits had allayed all
suspicion on the part of his guards. He joked with the sailors, climbed
about the rigging like a cat, and was so little affected by his position
that the guards were convinced that he was free from the burden of any
state secret, and that no apprehension of any serious consequence to
himself was weighing upon him.
"Poor lad!" the head warder said; "he will need all his spirits. He will
have hard work to make the king's council believe that he interfered in
such a matter as this from pure love of adventure. He will have many a
weary month to pass in prison before they free him, I reckon. It goes
against my heart to hand over such a mere laddie as a prisoner; still it
is no matter of mine. I have my duty to do, and it's not for me to
question the orders I have received, or to argue whether a prisoner is
innocent or guilty."
As the vessel anchored off Gravesend to wait for the turn of the tide to
take her up, a boat rowed by a waterman, and with a man sitting in the
stern, passed close by the ship. The head warder had now redoubled his
vigilance, and one of the guards with loaded musket was standing on the
deck not far from Ronald, who was standing on the taffrail. As the boat
passed some twenty yards astern of the ship the man who was not rowing
turned round for a moment and looked up at Ronald. It was but a momentary
glance that the lad caught of his face, and he suppressed with difficulty
a cry of surprise, for he recognized Malcolm Anderson. The rower
continued steadily to ply his oars, and continued his course towards
another ship anchored lower down the river. Ronald stood watching the
boat, and saw that after making a wide sweep it was rowed back again to
Gravesend.
Ronald had no doubt that Malcolm had come south in hopes of effecting his
escape, and guessed that he had taken up his post at Gravesend with the
intention of examining every ship as she passed up until the one in which
he knew he had sailed made its appearance. What his next step would be he
could not tell; but he determined to keep a vigilant lookout, and to
avail himself instantly of any opportunity which might offer.
As the captain did nor care about proceeding up the river after dark it
was not until the tide turned, just as morning broke, that the anchor was
weighed. There was a light breeze which just sufficed to give the vessel
steerage way, and a mist hung on the water. Ronald took his favourite
seat on the taffrail, and kept a vigilant watch upon every craft which
seemed likely to come near the vessel.
Greenwich was passed, and the vessel presently approached the crowded
part of the Pool. It was near high tide now, and the captain was
congratulating himself that he should just reach a berth opposite the
Tower before it turned. Presently a boat with two rowers shot out from
behind a tier of vessels and passed close under the stern of the Glasgow
Lass. A man was steering whom Ronald instantly recognized.
"Jump!" he cried, and Ronald without a moment's hesitation leaped from
the taffrail.
He came up close to the boat, and was instantly hauled on board by
Malcolm. Just at that moment the guard, who had stood stupefied by
Ronald's sudden action, gave a shout of alarm and discharged his piece.
The ball struck the boat close to Ronald. It was already in motion; the
men bent to their oars, and the boat glided towards the Surrey side of
the river. Loud shouts arose from on board the vessel, and four bullets
cut the water round the boat; but before the muskets could be reloaded
Malcolm had steered the boat through a tier of vessels, whose crews,
attracted by the firing, cheered the fugitives lustily.
A minute later they had reached some landing steps. Malcolm tossed some
money to the rowers, and then sprang ashore with Ronald, and handed the
latter a long coat which would reach to his heels and conceal the
drenched state of his clothing from notice.
"We have tricked them nicely, dear boy," he said; "we are safe now. Long
before they can lower a boat and get here we shall be safe in shelter,
and our five Glasgow bodies will have something to do to look for us
here."
Moderating his pace so as to avoid attracting attention, Malcolm
proceeded along several streets and lanes, and presently stopped at the
door of a little shop.
"I am lodging here," he said, "and have told the people of the house that
I am expecting a nephew back from a cruise in the Mediterranean."
As he passed through the shop he said to the woman behind the counter:
"Here he is safe and sound. He's been some days longer than I expected,
but I was nor so very far wrong in my calculations. The young scamp has
had enough of the sea, and has agreed to go back again with me to his own
people."
"That's right," the woman said. "My own boy ran away two years ago, and I
hope he will have come to his senses by the time he gets back again."
When they were together in their room up stairs Malcolm threw his arms
round Ronald's neck.
"Thank God, my dear boy, I have got you out of the clutches of the law!
You do not know how I have been fretting since I heard you were caught,
and thought that if ill came to you it would be all my fault. And now
tell me how you got into this scrape, for it has been puzzling me ever
since I heard it. Surely when I saw you last you knew nothing about any
Jacobite goings on?"
Ronald related the whole particulars of his adventure, and said that even
now he was absolutely ignorant who was the man whom he had aided to
escape.
"I know no more than you do, Ronald, but they must have thought his
capture an important one by the fuss they made over his escape. And now,
to think that you have slipped out of their hands too!" and Malcolm broke
into a loud laugh. "I would give a month's earnings to see the faces of
the guard as they make their report that they have arrived empty handed.
I was right glad when I saw you. I was afraid you might have given them
the slip on the way, and then there would have been no saying when we
might have found each other again."
"The sailors would have lowered a boat at night and let me make for the
land," Ronald said, "but there was a good guard kept over me. The door
was locked and a sentry always on watch, and I had quite given up all
hope until I saw you at Gravesend. And now, what do you intend to do?
Make our way back to Scotland?"
"No, no, lad, that would never do. There will be a hue and cry after you,
and all the northern routes will be watched. No, I shall make a bargain
with some Dutch skipper to take us across the water, and then we will
make our way to Paris."
"But have you got money, Malcolm?"
"I have got your purse, lad. I went to Andrew and said that I wanted it
for you, but that he was to ask no questions, so that whatever came of it
he could say that he knew nothing. He gave it me at once, saying only:
"'Remember, Malcolm, you have done the boy some harm already with your
teaching, see that you do him no further harm. I guess you are bent on
some hare brained plan, but whatever it be I wish you success.'"