My Man Sandy

  IX.

  THE GREAT STORM OF NOVEMBER, 1893.

  Eh, sirce me, what a nicht we had on Setarday mornin'! O, haud yourtongue! Though I should live lang eneuch to bury Sandy Bowden, an' haea golden weddin' wi' my second man, I'll never forget it. It mak's meshaky-trimilly yet to think aboot it. Sandy's gaen aboot wi' a' thehair cut aff the back o' his heid, an' fower or five strips o' stickin'plester battered across his scawp. He got an awfu' mishap, puir man.I thocht his heid was a' to smash, but, fortunately, it turned ootfully harder than the biscuit tin it cam' into contact wi'.

  It would be aboot ane o'clock or thereaboot when Sandy gae me a daudwi' his elba that garred me a' jump. I had an awfu' busy day onFriday; an' I was sleepin' as soond's a tap.

  "'Oman," says he, "there's something fearfu' gaen on doon the yairdsomewey. Wud that be the Dyed Wallop an' her man fechtin', or what i'the world's earth can it be? Harken, Bawbie! Did you ever hear sicyawlin'?"

  "Bliss me, Sandy man," says I, "that's the wind soochin' throo thetrees in the banker's gairden, an' fizzin' in amon' the pipes o' thewater barrels. It's shurely an awfu' nicht o' wind."

  Juist at this meenit you wudda thocht the very deevil himsel' hadgotten grips o' the frame o' oor winda. He garred it rattle like thethunder at Hewy White's theatre; then he yawled, an' hooed, an' growledlike five hunder cats an' as mony dogs wirryin' them, an' a' the fowk'at echt them fechtin' at the same time. This feenisht up wi' aterrific yawl; an' Sandy dived doon in ablo the claes.

  "Ye fear'd nowt," says I, "what are ye fleein' awa' doon there for?Ye'll hae my feet sterved to death wi' cauld. Lie up on your pillowan' lat the claes doon to the fit o' the bed."

  For a hale strucken 'oor this gaed on, an' sometimes I akwilly thocht Ifand the bed shakin'. Oor birdie (he hings at the winda) began towheek-wheek wi' fear, an I wanted Sandy to rise an' tak' the puircratur doon.

  "The feint a-fear o' me," says he, the hertless skemp 'at he is. "Ifyou want the canary i' the bed aside you, you can rise an' tak' himdoon yersel'."

  I raise an' took the puir craturie doon, an' hang him up on the itherside o' the room; an,' mind ye, ye wud raley thocht the bit beastiekent, for it gae a coodie bit cheep or twa, an juist cooered doon tosleep again. Juist as I was gaen awa' to screw doon the gas, it gaetwa or three lowps, an' oot it gaed; an' afore I kent whaur I was,there was a reeshilin' an' rummelin' on the ruif that wudda nearhandfleggit the very fowk i' the kirkyaird. I floo to my bed, an' in aneththe claes, an' lay for a meenit or so expectin' the cuples wud be doonon the tap o's, an' bruze baith o's to pooder. Efter the rummelin'haltit, I fand aboot wi' my fit for Sandy; but he wasna there.

  "Preserve's a'," says I, heich oot, "whaur are ye, Sandy? Are yethere? What's come ower ye? Are ye deid?"

  "I'm here, Bawbie," says a shiverin' voice in aneth the bed. "I'mhere, Bawbie. Ye'll hear Gabriel's tuter juist i' the noo. O, Bawbie,I've been a nesty footer o' a man, an' ill-gettit scoot a' my days. Iwiss I cud juist get hauds o' the Bible on the drawers-heid, Bawbie.Did ye hear the mountins an' the rocks beginnin' to fa'?"

  "Come awa' 'oot ablo there, Sandy," I says, says I, "an' no' get yourdeath o' cauld, an' be gaen aboot deavin fowk wi' you an' your reums.The mountins an' rocks is the brick an' lum-cans aff MistressMollison's hoose, I'm thinkin'." An' I cudna help addin'--"It's owerlate to be thinkin' aboot startin' to the Bible efter Gabriel's begunto blaw his tuter, Sandy. Come awa' to your bed!"

  Sandy got himsel' squeezed up atween the bed an' the wa'; an' at ilkyhooch an whirr 'at the wind gae he wheenged an' groaned like's he wasterriple ill wi' his inside; an' aye he was sayin', "I've been a lazygaen-aboot vegabon', an' ill-hertit vague. O dear, Bawbie, what'll wedo?"

  I cam' to mysel' efter a whilie, an' raise an' tried the gas, an' itlichtit a' richt. The wind was tearin' an' rivin' at the ruif at thistime something terriple. "We'll go doon the stair, Sandy," says I; an'I made for the door.

  "For ony sake, Bawbie," roared Sandy oot o' the bed, "wait till I geton my breeks. If ye lave me, I'll g'wa' in a fit--as shore's ocht."

  We got doon the stair an' I lichtit the fire an' got the kettle to theboil, an' we sat an' harkined to the wind skreechin' doon the lum, an'groanin' an' wailin' amon' the trees ower the road, an' soochin' roondaboot the washin'-hoose. I raley never heard the marrow o't. Thenicht o' the fa'a'in' o' the Tay Brig was but the blawin' oot o' acan'le aside it. I' the middle o' an awfu' sooch there was a fearfu'reeshil at oor door, an' Sandy fair jamp aff his chair wi' the start.

  "A'ye in, Sandy?" cried Dauvid Kenawee, in a nervish kind o' a voice.

  I awa' an' opened the door, an' here was Dauvid an' MistressKenawee--Dauvid wi' his pints wallopin' amon' his feet, an' his weyscotlowse, an' Mistress Kenawee juist wi' her short-goon an' a shallie on.

  "This is shurely the end o' the world comin'," said Mistress Kenawee,near greetin'. "O dear me, I think something's genna come ower me."

  "Tuts 'oman, sit doon," says Dauvid, altho' he was in a fell stateaboot her. I cud see that brawly.

  The sicht o' the puir wafilly budy akinda drave the fear awa frae me;an' I maskit a cup o' tea, an' crackit awa till her till we got hercowshined doon. Their back winda had been blawn in, and Dauvid hadtried to keep oot the wind wi' a mattress; but the wind had tummeledbaith Dauvid an' the mattress heels ower gowrie, an' the wife got intila terriple state. They cudna bide i' the hoose ony langer, an' i' thewarst o't a', they cam' awa through a shoer o' sklates, an' bricks, an'lum-cans, an' gless, to see if we wud lat them in.

  I garred Sandy pet on a bit ham, and drew anower the table, and triedto keep them frae thinkin' aboot it; but at ilka whizz an' growl thewind gae, baith Sandy an' Mistress Kenawee startit an' took a langbreath.

  I'm shure we hadna abune a moofu' o' tea drucken, an' Sandy was juistawa' to tak' aff' the ham, when the fryin' pan was knockit ooten hishand, an' doon the lum cam' a pozel o' bricks an' shute that wuddafilled a cairt. Sandy fell back ower an' knockit Mistress Kenaweericht i' the flure. The ham dip gaed up the lum in a gloze, an' herewas Sandy an' Dauvid's wife lyin' i' the middle o' a' the mairter o'rubbitch. Mistress Kenawee's face, puir thing, was as white as acloot; but Sandy's was as black as the man More o' Vennis, the bleckiethat smored his wife i' the theatre for carryin' on wi' a sodger.

  What a job Dauvid an' me had gettin' them roond. We poored a drappiebrandie doon baith their throats; an' Sandy opened his een an' says,"Ay; I've been an awfu' blackgaird; I have that!" He had come doon wi'the back o' his heid on a biscuit tin fu' o' peyse meal, an' hadsmashed the tin an' sent the meal fleein' a' ower the hoose. But thecratur had gotten an awfu' tnap on the back o' the heid, an' he wasbluidin' gey sair. Gin daylicht brook, Dauvid an' me had gotten thetwa o' them akinda into order, and Sandy was able to open the shop. Hehad an awfu' ruggin' an' tuggin' afore he cud get the door to open; an'he cam' into me an' says, "Dod, Bawbie, I think the hoose has gotten aterriple thraw. The shop door 'ill nether go back nor forrit!"

  I gaed oot to see what was ado. Eh, sirce, if you had only seen oorstreet! The beach ootby at the Saut Pan, whaur there's a free coup forrubbitch, was naething till't! It juist mindit me o' the picture, inoor big Bible, o' Jerusalem when the fowk cam' back frae Babylontill't--it was juist a' lyin' a cairn o' lowse steens an' half bricks.

  There's neen o's 'ill forget Friday nicht in a hurry, or I'm mucklemisteen.