The Men of the Moss-Hags

  CHAPTER LI.

  THE SANDS OF WIGTOWN.

  The morning of the eleventh of May came as calm and sweet as the nighthad been, which had proved so disastrously clear for us. I slept little,as men may guess, thinking on the poor lassies; and sometimes also onthe torture in the prison, and the death on the scaffold. For I knewthat though there might be delay, there could be no such thing as pardonfor one that had carried the standard at Sanquhar, charged the stormingfray of Ayrsmoss, and sole of all in Cameron's muster had gotten clearaway.

  From early morning I could hear on the street the gathering of the folkfrom the country-side far and near. And then the soldiers cameclattering by to their stations, laughing as they went like people goingto look upon a show.

  "There are but two of them to be 'pitten doon,' after all," I heard oneof the soldiers say. "Gilbert Wilson has paid a hundred pound to get offhis bit lassie Agnes."

  And that was the first intimation I had that only the elder woman,Margaret Lauchlison, whom I had seen in the Thieves' Hole with her headon her hands, and our own sweet Margaret were to be drowned within theflood-mark of the Blednoch.

  Black, black day! Would that I could blot it out of my memory. Yet thatmen in after times may see what weak maids and ailing women bore withconstancy in the dark years, I set down that day's doings as I sawthem--but briefly, neither altering nor suppressing, because of thismatter I cannot bear to write at large. It was but half an hour beforethe binding of the women that Lag sent for me--in order that I might seethe thing which was done, and, as he said, carry the word to Sandy andthe rest of the saints at Edinburgh.

  And this, as I told him, with all constancy I should be very fond to do.

  Now the Blednoch is a slow stream, which ordinarily flows in the deepditch of its channel, wimpling and twining through the sands of the bayof Wigtown. The banks are but steep slopes of mud, on which if one slipshe goes to the bottom with a slide. Up this deep channel the sea comestwice every day, damming back the sluggish stream and brimming the banksat full tide. When Lag's men took me down to the water edge, I saw thetwo women already tied to stakes set in the ooze of the Blednoch bank.At the sight my heart swelled within me at once sick and hot. MargaretLauchlison was tethered deepest down, her stake set firm in the bottomand the post rising as high as her head.

  Nigh half way up the steep bank stood our little Margaret, looselyreeved to a sunken stob, her hands clasped before her. She still worethe gown that I remember seeing upon her when she dwelt with us amongthe hills. But even in this pass she was cheerful, and lifting her eyeswith a smile she bade me be so likewise, because that for her there wasno fear and but a short pain. Also she called me very sweetly "William,"and asked me to commend her to Maisie Lennox--a thing which more thanall went to my heart. For it told me by the way she said it, that Maisieand she had talked together of loves and likings, as is all maidens'wont. The women were not tightly tied to the posts, but attached to themwith a running rove of rope, by which they could be pulled close to thestakes, or else, at the will of the murderers, drawn up again to thebank, as one might draw a pitcher from a well.

  Already was the salt tide water beginning to flow upwards along theBlednoch channel, bearing swirls of foam upon its breast.

  Margaret Lauchlison, being an aged woman of eighty years, said no wordas the tide rose above her breast, where lowest in the river bed shestood waiting. Her head hung down, and it was not till the water reachedher lips that she began to struggle, nor did I see her make so much as amovement. Yet she was determined to die as she had lived, an honest,peaceable, Christian woman of a good confession--not learned, save inthe scholarship of God, but therein of high attainment and greatexperience. And all honour be to her, for even as she determined, so shedied.

  Then, when some of the soldiers were for fleeching with her to take theTest, Lag cried out (for he ever loved his devil's-broth served hot):

  "Bide ye there! 'Tis needless to speak to the old besom! Let her goquick to hell!"

  But Provost Coltran, sober enough this morning, and with other things tothink of than the crows, come to the bank edge. And standing where hisfeet were nearly on a level with our little Margaret's head, he said toher:

  "What see ye down there, Margaret Wilson? What think ye? Can you withconstancy suffer the choking of the salt water when it comes to yourturn?"

  Now, though Coltran was a rude man, and pang full of oaths, he spoke notso unfeelingly. But to him Margaret replied, in a sweet voice thatwafted up like the singing of a psalm, from the sweltering pit of pain:

  "I see naught but Christ struggling there in the water in the person ofone of His saints!"

  Then the Provost came nearer still, and bending down like an elder thatgives counsel, said to her, "Margaret, ye are young and ken no better.We will give you your life gin ye pray for the King. Will ye say aloud'God save the King'?"

  "I desire the salvation of all men," Margaret said. "May God save him anHe will!"

  Coltran rose with a flush of triumph in his eye. He was none so bad aman, only dazed with drink and bad company.

  "She has said it!" he cried, and from far and near the people took upthe cry "She has said it, she has said it!" And some were glad and someshook their heads for what they counted the dishonour of the submission.

  Now, Blednoch sands under Wigtown town were a sight to behold that day.They were black with folk, all in scattering, changing groups. Therewere many clouds of folk on the sands when the lassies were "pittendoon," and in every little company there was one praying. Through thempatrolled the soldiers in fours, breaking up each little band ofworshippers, which dissolved only to come together again as soon as theyhad passed.

  Then the town officer, a cruel and ill-liked man, who never did wellafterwards all his days, took his long-hafted halbert, and, standing onthe verge of the bank, he set the end of it to Margaret Lauchlison'sneck.

  "Bide ye doon there and clep wi' the partans, Margaret, my woman!" hesaid, holding her head under water till it hung loose and the life wentfrom it.

  The elder woman thus having finished her course with joy, they unrovethe nether rope and drew little Margaret up to the bank, exhorting herto cry aloud "God save the King!" and also to pray for him, that shemight get her liberty.

  For they began to be in fear, knowing that this drowning of women wouldmake a greater stir in the world than much shooting of men.

  "Lord, give him repentance, forgiveness, and, salvation!" she saidfervently and willingly.

  But Lag cried out in his great hoarse voice, "Out upon the wretch! Wewant not such oaths nor prayers. Winram, get the Test through herteeth--or down with her again."

  But she steadfastly refused the wicked Test, the oath of sin. As indeedwe that loved Scotland and the good way of religion had all learned todo.

  "I cannot forswear my faith. I am one of Christ's children. Let me go toHim!" she said, being willing to depart, which she held to be farbetter.

  "Back with her into the water!" cried Lag. "The sooner she will win tohell! 'Tis too good for a rebel like her!"

  But Coltran said, "Ye are fair to see, Margaret, lass. Think weel,hinny! Hae ye nane that ye love?"

  But she answered him not a word, being like one other before her, like alamb led to the slaughter.

  So they tied her again to the stake, where the water was deeper now andlappered on her breast, swirling yellow and foul in oily bubbles.

  Her great head coverture of hair--which, had I been her lad, I shouldhave delighted to touch and stroke--now broke from the maiden's snood,and fell into the water. There it floated, making a fair golden shiningin the grimy tide, like the halo which is about the sun when he rises.Also her face was as the face of an angel, being turned upward to God.

  Then they began to drive the folk from the sands for fear of what theymight see--the beauty of the dying maid, and go mad with anger at thesight.

  Whereupon, being in extremity, she lifted her voice to sing, calm asthough it had been an ordinary Sabbath m
orning, and she leading theworship at Glen Vernock, as indeed she did very well.

  It was the twenty-fifth Psalm she sang, as followeth. And when she thatwas a pure maid sang of her sins, it went to my heart, thinking on myown greater need.

  "My sins and faults of youth Do Thou, O Lord, forget; After Thy mercies think on me, And for Thy goodness great."

  It was a sweet voice and carried far. But lest it should move the heartsof the people, Lag garred beat the drum. And as the drums began to roll,I saw the first salt wave touch the bonny maiden lips which no man hadkissed in the way of love.

  Then the guards plucked me by the arm roughly and dragged me away. Thedrums waxed still louder. But as we went farther away, the voice of themaiden praising God out of the floods of great waters, broke throughthem, rising clearer, besieging the throne of God and breaking down thehearts of men. I saw the tears hopping down many a rude soldier's cheek.

  Nevertheless, they swore incessantly, cursing Lag and Winram back andforth, threatening to shoot them for devils thus to kill young maids andweakly women.

  But once again in the pauses of the drums the words of Margaret's songcame clear. Forget them shall I never, till I too be on my death-bed,and can remember nothing but "The Lord's my Shepherd," which every Scotminds on his dying day. These were the words she sang:

  "Turn unto me Thy face, And to me mercy show; Because that I am desolate, And am brought very low.

  "O do Thou keep my soul, Do Thou deliver me; And let me never be ashamed, Because I trust in Thee."

  After the last line there was a break and a silence, and no more--and nomore! But after the silence had endured a space, there arose a wailingthat went from the hill of Wigtown to the farthest shore of theCree--the wailing of a whole country-side for a young lass done to deathin the flower of her youth, in the untouched grace and favour of hervirginity.