The Men of the Moss-Hags

  CHAPTER XXV.

  THE LAST CHARGE AT AYRSMOSS.

  The morning of the twenty-second of July dawned solemnly clear. Itpromised to be a day of slumberous heat, for the haze lay long in thehollows, hesitating to disappear, and there was the brooding of thunderin the air. We that were of Cameron's little company found ourselves ina wild place on the moors. Most of our Galloway men had betakenthemselves home, and they that had come out of Lanarkshire and Ayr werethe greater part of the scanty company. The name of the place where wesojourned was Ayrsmoss. We had lain sleepless and anxious all night,with watchers posted about among the moss-hags. Richard Cameron spokeoften to us, and told us that the matter had at last come to the narrowand bitter pass.

  "It is the day of the Lord's anger," he said, "and it is expedient thatsome men should die for the people!"

  We told him that we were ready, and that from the beginning we hadcounted on nothing else. But within me I felt desperately ill-prepared:yet, for the sake of the banner I carried, I tholed and said nothing.

  It was about ten of the day, and because we heard not from our folk whohad been posted to give warning, we sent out other two to find them.Then having taken a meal of meat for the better sustaining of ourbodies, we lay down to sleep for an hour on a pleasant green place,which is all surrounded by morasses, for we had gotten no rest the nightbefore.

  Now I think we were all fey at this time, for we laid us down on theedge of the moss in a place that is open to all. And this when we mighthave withdrawn ourselves deep into the bog, and so darned ourselvesamong the "quakking quas"--dangerous and impassable flowes, so that nodragoons in the world could have come at us. But this we did not, forthe word and doom were written. It was our enemies' day. As Cameron saidthat morning as we passed the house of William Mitchell in Meadowhead,and when they brought him out a basin and water to wash his hands, alsoa towel wherewith to dry them:

  "This is their last washing. My head and hands are now cleansed for theoffering!"

  So we laid us down among a great swirling of whaups and crying ofpeesweeps. For the season of their nesting was hardly over, and all themoorland was astir with their plaintive notes.

  After a long time I awoke, dreaming that Maisie Lennox stood by mybedside and took my hand, saying, "The kye are in the corn!" I sat up,and, lo, there within half a mile, and beating the moor in search of us,were two companies of dragoons, of the number of about one hundred andtwenty, as near as at a glance I could reckon. My heart gave a stound,and I said to myself, "This is surely thy death-day, William Gordon!"And the word sounded strangely in my heart, for I had begun to think mylife worth living in these latter days, and was none so keen upon thedying as were some others of our company.

  But on the instant I awakened Cameron and his brother Michael, and alsoDavid Hackstoun of Rathillet, that was a soldier most stern, but yet ajust man according to his lights. And they sat up and saw the soldierssweeping the moor. But, as I say, we were all fey. For even then it waswithin our power to have escaped the violence of the men of war. Veryeasily could we have left our horses, and betaken us into the deepestparts of the bottomless shaking bogs, where no man could have followedus. But the thought came not to us at the time. For God had so orderedit, that Scotland was best to be served that day by the death of many ofHis servants.

  There were in our company twenty-three that had horses and forty thathad none. But we were all armed in some sort of fashion.

  Now, this Richard Cameron had in him both the heart of a fighter and thefearlessness of a man assured of his interest. He cried out to inquireof us if we were firmly set in our minds to fight, and with one voice weanswered him, "Ay!" We were of one heart and one mind. Our company andconverse had been sweet in the darkness, and now we were set to dietogether in the noonday, gladly as men that have made them ready for theentering in of the bride-chamber.

  So in that sullen morning, with the birds crying and the mist drawingdown into thunder-clouds, we rose to make our last stand. I had given upall thought of escape, and was putting in hard steeks at the praying.For the sins that were on my soul were many, and I had too recentlytaken to that way of thinking to have the comfort and assurance of myelders.

  Now, the soldiers that came against us were the finest companies ofAirly's and Strachan's dragoons--gallant lads all--newly brought to thatcountry-side and not yet inured to the cruel riding and shooting, asother companies were. I have not a word to say against the way theyfought, though as their duty was, they came against us with haste andfury. Our quarrel was not with them, but with their master.

  They rode gallantly enough this way and that through the morasses, andcame on bravely. Bruce of Earlshall was over them, but John Crichton wastheir best fighter. A stark and cruel man he was, that would have huntedus all down if he could. He fought that day with his blade swinging allthe time, damning and cursing between every blow. But, for all that, hewas sick and sorry ere he left this field. For if ever man did, he methis match when he crossed swords with the Lion of the Covenant. It wasRathillet who chose the place of strength for us to make our stand, andas it seemed and mostly proved, to take our deaths upon. There waslittle time for the Word and the Prayer. But, as was our custom, we sanga cheerful psalm, and lifted up our bonnets while Cameron prayed:

  "Lord, spare the green, and take the ripe!" That was the whole matter ofhis supplication. "We may never be in better case to die. I see thegates of heaven cast wide open to receive us."

  And I noted that all the time of our singing, David Hackstoun ofRathillet was looking to the priming of his pistols, and drawing theedge of his sword-blade along the back of his hand, as one that tries arazor ere he sets it to his chin. Then the companies of the enemy haltedon the edge of the moss where the ground was yet firm. They seemed notdisinclined for a parley.

  "Do you own the King's authority?" cried one among them. It was Bruce ofEarlshall, a buirdly[7] chiel and one not greatly cruel; but rather likeMonmouth, anxious to let the poor remnant have its due.

  [Footnote 7: Sturdy.]

  "Ay!" cried Cameron, "we own the King's authority."

  "Wherefore, then, stand ye there in arms against his forces?" came theanswer back. "Yield, and ye shall have quarter and fair conduct toEdinburgh!"

  The man spake none so evilly for a persecutor, and in my heart I likedhim.

  "I thank you, Captain Bruce, for your fair speech," said Cameron, "but Iwot well you mean fair passage to the Grassmarket. The King we own isnot King Charles Stuart, and it liketh us to go to our King's courtthrough the crash of battle, rather than through the hank of thehangman's twine."

  "This preacher is no man of straw--fight he will," I heard them say oneto the other, for they were near to us, even at the foot of the oppositeknoll.

  Then our horsemen, of whom I was one, closed in order without furtherword, and our foot drew out over the moss in readiness to fire. DavidHackstoun was with us on the left, and Captain Fowler on the right. ButRichard Cameron was always a little ahead of us all, with his brotherMichael with him on one side, and I, riding my Galloway nag, close uponhis right flank--which was an honourable post for one so young as I, andserved withal to keep my spirits up.

  Just before he gave the word to charge, he cried out to us, pointing tothe enemy with his sword:

  "Yonder is the way to the good soldier's crown!"

  The day had been clouding over, the heat growing almost intolerable. Itwas now about two in the afternoon. It was easy to see, had we had theeyes to observe it, that a thunderstorm was brewing, and even as RichardCameron stretched out his sword over his horse's head, and cried on tous to charge in the name of the Lord, the first levin-bolt shot down,glittering into the moor like a forked silver arrow. And over our headthe whole firmament raired and crashed.

  "The Captain of our Salvation calls for us!" cried Cameron. "Who followsafter, when the Son of God rides forth to war!"

  So with that we lowered our sword-points and drave at them. I think Imust have ridden with my eyes shut, d
own that little green knowe withthe short grass underfoot. I know that, even as we rode, the thunderbegan to roar about us, girding us in a continuous ring oflightning-flashes.

  Yet, at the time, I seemed to ride through a world of empty silence,even when I struck the red broil of battle. I could see Cameron cryingout and waving his sword before us as our horses gathered way, but Iremember no more till the shock came and we found ourselves threshingheadlong among them. I fired my pistols right and left, and set them inmy belt again, though the habit was to throw them away. I had my sworddangling by a lingel or tag at my right wrist, for I had learned fromWat Gordon how to fight it upon horseback when it came to the charge.The first man that I came against was a great dragoon on a grey horse.He shouted an oath of contempt, seeing me so slender and puny. Yet, forall his bulk, I had him on the wrong side, so that he could not use hissword-arm with advantage. And as I passed on my stout little nag, I gotmy sword well home under his armpit and tumbled him off into the mire.

  The stoutness of our charge took the enemy entirely by surprise. Indeed,afterwards they gave us all the testimony of being brave, resolute men;and, like soldiers and gentlemen as they were, they used them that weretaken very civilly. I could see Cameron before me smiting and slaying,slaying and smiting, rising in his stirrup at every blow and calling onhis men. It was a wild, fierce time, all too short--a happy turmoil ofblows wherein I drank for the first time the heady delight of battle.All over the wild moss of Ayr that great day the swords flickered likelightning-flashes, and the lightnings darted like sword-blades. Oh, howmany quiet times would I not give for such another glorious wager ofbattle!

  Overhead all the universe roared as we fought, and I had no thought saveof the need to keep my point up--thrusting, parrying, and striking asGod gave me ability.

  Right in the midst of the press there came two at me from oppositesides; and I saw very well that, if I got no help, there was no more oflife for me. "Richard!" I cried, and the shout must have gone to ourleader's ear, though I myself could not hear it, so great was theclangour and the din.

  Cameron had been smiting with the strength of ten immediately on myfront. In a moment more he cleared his point, pierced his man, andturned. The man on my left swerved his horse out of his way, for Cameroncame with a surge. But the other, whom I took to be Crichton, met himfair, blade to blade. The first clash of the swords was mighty. Thesetwo lowering black men met and knew each other, soon as they looked oneanother in the eyes.

  But I could see that Cameron was ever the stronger and swifter, thoughCrichton had somewhat the more skill. Crichton tried to pass him alittle, that he might get arm-play for his famous back-strokes,wherewith he was renowned to have cut off a man's head at a blow; butCameron measured his guard and the blow whistled harmless past his ear.Then came the return. The preacher's sword streaked it out straight andlevel, and for a moment seemed to stand full mid-blade in the dragoon'sside.

  The next moment we too found ourselves outside their first line. We hadbroken our way through, and the enemy were in confusion behind us. I sawmany single combats going forward, and in especial a most noble fightbetween David Hackstoun of Rathillet and one of his own acquaintances,by name David Ramsay, a gentleman of his country. As they fought I couldhear Hackstoun, whom nothing could daunt or disturb, asking Ramsay allthe news of the country-side, and how such a one did, what wife hadgotten another child and whether it were a lad or a lass. Which is athing I should never have believed if any man had told me. And when Iset it down here I expect not to be believed of any, save by those whohave been in the thick of a civil war themselves. But all that knewDavid Hackstoun of Rathillet will believe that this thing is true ofhim.

  So he fought, clashing swords and talking at his ease, without change ofcountenance, till he was stricken down with three coming on him at oncefrom behind.

  Then, seeing our horsemen scattered, Cameron cried them to him, and wegalloped towards their second line that came riding unbroken towards us.Now it was our misfortune that the dragoons were stark fellows and hadseen service, so that they gave not back as others might have done,seeing us come on so determinedly. Rather they reserved their powdertill we were almost at the sword's length. Then they fired, and I sawour men falling over in twos and threes. But Richard Cameron still rodesteadily with Michael and myself behind him. His horse had once beenwhite, but now was mostly dripping red--a fearsome sight to see. I heardafterwards from old soldiers that had been in the fights of the ancientdays, that no such terrifying figure had they ever seen in the wars,since Noll led on the Ironsides at Marston Moor.

  But Cameron's case was far more desperate than had ever been that ofOliver.

  "Smite! Smite!" he cried, "The sword of the Lord and of Gideon!"

  Over all the field there was only the whinnying of swords as theywhistled through the air, and at the edges of the fray the droppingrattle of the musketry. As we touched their second line we seemed toride in upon a breast-high wave of flame, which might have beenEarlshall's flashing muskets or God's own level lightnings. I rode asbest I could behind Cameron, striking when I had opportunity and wardingas I had need. But, though I was here in the forefront of the battle, Iwas in the safest place. For Richard Cameron ploughed a lane throughtheir company, sending them to right and left before him as the foam isploughed by a swift vessel.

  But our desperate riders were now wearing few. I looked behind us, andonly two seemed to be in the saddle--James Gray of Chryston and MichaelCameron, who had both promised to ding the stoor that day out of hisMajesty's red-clouts. I could see Chryston striking, and grunting as hestruck, exactly like a man hagging hard wood with a blunt axe.

  So I found myself out at the side of the fight. But, just when I thoughtmyself clear, there came a blow on my steel cap that nearly dang me outof the saddle, and I drew out further again. Cameron also had won clear;but, seeing his brother Michael hard beset, he turned rein and drave inamong the smother again, raging like the lion he was. How his horse kepthis feet on the moss I know not, for Cameron seemed constantly to bestanding up in his stirrups, leaning forward to give his blade moreplay. So he rode into the midst of them, till he was brought to a standin what seemed a ring of foes. Even there I could see his arm rise andfall, as steadily as a man that flails corn in a barn. And wherever hestruck was a gap, for there a man went down. But more and more of themgathered about, threshing at him with their swords, some on horse andsome on foot, like boys killing wasps at the taking of a byke.

  Then when Richard Cameron saw that he could do no more, and that all themen were down that had followed him, his brother Michael also dying athis feet, he swept his sword every way about him to clear a space for amoment. Then he swung the brand over his head high in the air, castingit from him into the sky, till it seemed to enter into the dark cloudwhere the thunder brooded and the smoke of powder hung.

  "God of battles, receive my sinful soul!" he cried.

  And with that he joined his hands like a man that dives for swimming;and, unwounded, unhurt, yet fighting to the last, Richard Cameron sprangupon a hundred sword-points. Thus died the bravest man in broadScotland, whom men called, and called well, the Lion of the Covenant.

  And, even as he passed, the heavens opened, and the whole firmamentseemed but one lightning-flash, so that all stood aghast at themarvellous brightness. Which occasioned the saying that God sent achariot of fire with horses of whiteness to bring home to Him the soulof Richard Cameron. Whereof some men bear testimony that they saw; butindeed I saw nothing but a wondrous lightning-flash over the wholeheaven. Then, a moment after, the thunder crashed like the breaking upof the world, and there was an end.