Kidnapped

  CHAPTER XVI

  THE LAD WITH THE SILVER BUTTON: ACROSS MORVEN

  There is a regular ferry from Torosay to Kinlochaline on the mainland.Both shores of the Sound are in the country of the strong clan of theMacleans, and the people that passed the ferry with me were almost allof that clan. The skipper of the boat, on the other hand, was calledNeil Roy Macrob; and since Macrob was one of the names of Alan'sclansmen, and Alan himself had sent me to that ferry, I was eager tocome to private speech of Neil Roy.

  In the crowded boat this was of course impossible, and the passage wasa very slow affair. There was no wind, and as the boat was wretchedlyequipped, we could pull but two oars on one side, and one on the other.The men gave way, however, with a good will, the passengers takingspells to help them, and the whole company giving the time inGaelic boat-songs. And what with the songs, and the sea-air, and thegood-nature and spirit of all concerned, and the bright weather, thepassage was a pretty thing to have seen.

  But there was one melancholy part. In the mouth of Loch Aline we founda great sea-going ship at anchor; and this I supposed at first to be oneof the King's cruisers which were kept along that coast, both summerand winter, to prevent communication with the French. As we got a littlenearer, it became plain she was a ship of merchandise; and what stillmore puzzled me, not only her decks, but the sea-beach also, were quiteblack with people, and skiffs were continually plying to and fro betweenthem. Yet nearer, and there began to come to our ears a great soundof mourning, the people on board and those on the shore crying andlamenting one to another so as to pierce the heart.

  Then I understood this was an emigrant ship bound for the Americancolonies.

  We put the ferry-boat alongside, and the exiles leaned over thebulwarks, weeping and reaching out their hands to my fellow-passengers,among whom they counted some near friends. How long this might have goneon I do not know, for they seemed to have no sense of time: but at lastthe captain of the ship, who seemed near beside himself (and no greatwonder) in the midst of this crying and confusion, came to the side andbegged us to depart.

  Thereupon Neil sheered off; and the chief singer in our boat struck intoa melancholy air, which was presently taken up both by the emigrants andtheir friends upon the beach, so that it sounded from all sides like alament for the dying. I saw the tears run down the cheeks of the men andwomen in the boat, even as they bent at the oars; and the circumstancesand the music of the song (which is one called "Lochaber no more") werehighly affecting even to myself.

  At Kinlochaline I got Neil Roy upon one side on the beach, and said Imade sure he was one of Appin's men.

  "And what for no?" said he.

  "I am seeking somebody," said I; "and it comes in my mind that you willhave news of him. Alan Breck Stewart is his name." And very foolishly,instead of showing him the button, I sought to pass a shilling in hishand.

  At this he drew back. "I am very much affronted," he said; "and this isnot the way that one shentleman should behave to another at all. The manyou ask for is in France; but if he was in my sporran," says he, "andyour belly full of shillings, I would not hurt a hair upon his body."

  I saw I had gone the wrong way to work, and without wasting time uponapologies, showed him the button lying in the hollow of my palm.

  "Aweel, aweel," said Neil; "and I think ye might have begun with thatend of the stick, whatever! But if ye are the lad with the silverbutton, all is well, and I have the word to see that ye come safe. Butif ye will pardon me to speak plainly," says he, "there is a name thatyou should never take into your mouth, and that is the name of AlanBreck; and there is a thing that ye would never do, and that is to offeryour dirty money to a Hieland shentleman."

  It was not very easy to apologise; for I could scarce tell him (what wasthe truth) that I had never dreamed he would set up to be a gentlemanuntil he told me so. Neil on his part had no wish to prolong hisdealings with me, only to fulfil his orders and be done with it; andhe made haste to give me my route. This was to lie the night inKinlochaline in the public inn; to cross Morven the next day to Ardgour,and lie the night in the house of one John of the Claymore, who waswarned that I might come; the third day, to be set across one loch atCorran and another at Balachulish, and then ask my way to the house ofJames of the Glens, at Aucharn in Duror of Appin. There was a good dealof ferrying, as you hear; the sea in all this part running deep into themountains and winding about their roots. It makes the country strong tohold and difficult to travel, but full of prodigious wild and dreadfulprospects.

  I had some other advice from Neil: to speak with no one by the way, toavoid Whigs, Campbells, and the "red-soldiers;" to leave the road andlie in a bush if I saw any of the latter coming, "for it was neverchancy to meet in with them;" and in brief, to conduct myself like arobber or a Jacobite agent, as perhaps Neil thought me.

  The inn at Kinlochaline was the most beggarly vile place that ever pigswere styed in, full of smoke, vermin, and silent Highlanders. I was notonly discontented with my lodging, but with myself for my mismanagementof Neil, and thought I could hardly be worse off. But very wrongly, as Iwas soon to see; for I had not been half an hour at the inn (standing inthe door most of the time, to ease my eyes from the peat smoke) when athunderstorm came close by, the springs broke in a little hill on whichthe inn stood, and one end of the house became a running water. Placesof public entertainment were bad enough all over Scotland in those days;yet it was a wonder to myself, when I had to go from the fireside to thebed in which I slept, wading over the shoes.

  Early in my next day's journey I overtook a little, stout, solemn man,walking very slowly with his toes turned out, sometimes reading ina book and sometimes marking the place with his finger, and dresseddecently and plainly in something of a clerical style.

  This I found to be another catechist, but of a different order from theblind man of Mull: being indeed one of those sent out by the EdinburghSociety for Propagating Christian Knowledge, to evangelise the moresavage places of the Highlands. His name was Henderland; he spoke withthe broad south-country tongue, which I was beginning to weary for thesound of; and besides common countryship, we soon found we had amore particular bond of interest. For my good friend, the minister ofEssendean, had translated into the Gaelic in his by-time a number ofhymns and pious books which Henderland used in his work, and held ingreat esteem. Indeed, it was one of these he was carrying and readingwhen we met.

  We fell in company at once, our ways lying together as far as toKingairloch. As we went, he stopped and spoke with all the wayfarersand workers that we met or passed; and though of course I could not tellwhat they discoursed about, yet I judged Mr. Henderland must be wellliked in the countryside, for I observed many of them to bring out theirmulls and share a pinch of snuff with him.

  I told him as far in my affairs as I judged wise; as far, that is,as they were none of Alan's; and gave Balachulish as the place I wastravelling to, to meet a friend; for I thought Aucharn, or even Duror,would be too particular, and might put him on the scent.

  On his part, he told me much of his work and the people he worked among,the hiding priests and Jacobites, the Disarming Act, the dress, and manyother curiosities of the time and place. He seemed moderate; blamingParliament in several points, and especially because they had framed theAct more severely against those who wore the dress than against thosewho carried weapons.

  This moderation put it in my mind to question him of the Red Fox and theAppin tenants; questions which, I thought, would seem natural enough inthe mouth of one travelling to that country.