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 was avery 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 in Gaelicboat-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 found agreat 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 summer andwinter, 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 sound ofmourning, 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; and hemade 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 in abook, 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 a moreparticular 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 wayfarers andworkers 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 country-side, for I observed many of them to bring outtheir mulls and share a pinch of snuff with him.
I told him as far in my affairs as I judged wise; as far, that is, asthey 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, andmany other curiosities of the time and place. He seemed moderate;blaming Parliament in several points, and especially because they hadframed the Act more severely against those who wore the dress thanagainst those who 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.
He said it was a bad business. "It's wonderful," said he, "where thetenants find the money, for their life is mere starvation. (Ye don'tcarry such a thing as snuff, do ye, Mr. Balfour? No. Well, I'm betterwanting it.) But these tenants (as I was saying) are doubtless partlydriven to it. James Stewart in Duror (that's him they call James of theGlens) is half-brother to Ardshiel, the captain of the clan; and he is aman much looked up to, and drives very hard. And then there's one
theycall Alan Breck----"
"Ah!" cried I, "what of him?"
"What of the wind that bloweth where it listeth?" said Henderland. "He'shere and awa'; here to-day and gone to-morrow: a fair heather-cat. Hemight be glowering at the two of us out of yon whin-bush, and I wouldnawonder! Ye'll no' carry such a thing as snuff, will ye?"
I told him no, and that he had asked the same thing more than once.
"It's highly possible," said he, sighing. "But it seems strange yeshouldna carry it. However, as I was saying, this Alan Breck is a bold,desperate customer, and well kennt to be James's right hand. His life isforfeit already; he would boggle at naething; and maybe, if atenant-body was to hang back he would get a dirk in his wame."
"You make a poor story of it all, Mr. Henderland," said I. "If it is allfear upon both sides, I care to hear no more of it."
"Na," said Mr. Henderland, "but there's love too, and self-denial thatshould put the like of you and me to shame. There's something fineabout it; no' perhaps Christian, but humanly fine. Even Alan Breck, byall that I hear, is a chield to be respected. There's many a lyingsneck-draw sits close in kirk in our own part of the country, and standswell in the world's eye, and maybe is a far worse man, Mr. Balfour, thanyon misguided shedder of man's blood. Ay, ay, we might take a lesson bythem.--Ye'll perhaps think I've been too long in the Hielands?" headded, smiling to me.
I told him not at all; that I had seen much to admire among theHighlanders; and, if he came to that, Mr. Campbell himself was aHighlander.
"Ay," said he, "that's true. It's a fine blood."
"And what is the King's agent about?" I asked.
"Colin Campbell?" says Henderland. "Putting his head in a bees' byke!"
"He is to turn the tenants out by force, I hear?" said I.
"Yes," says he, "but the business has gone back and forth, as folks say.First, James of the Glens rode to Edinburgh, and got some lawyer (aStewart, nae doubt--they all hing together like bats in a steeple) andhad the proceedings stayed. And then Colin Campbell cam' in again, andhad the upper hand before the Barons of Exchequer. And now they tell methe first of the tenants are to flit to-morrow. It's to begin at Durorunder James's very windows, which doesna seem wise, by my humble way ofit."
"Do you think they'll fight?" I asked.
"Well," says Henderland, "they're disarmed--or supposed to be--forthere's still a good deal of cold iron lying by in quiet places. Andthen Colin Campbell has the sogers coming. But for all that, if I washis lady wife, I wouldna be well pleased till I got him home again.They're queer customers, the Appin Stewarts."
I asked if they were worse than their neighbours.
"No' they," said he. "And that's the worst part of it. For if Colin Roycan get his business done in Appin, he has it all to begin again in thenext country, which they call Mamore, and which is one of the countriesof the Camerons. He's King's factor upon both, and from both he has todrive out the tenants; and indeed, Mr. Balfour (to be open with ye),it's my belief that if he escapes the one lot, he'll get his death bythe other."
So we continued talking and walking the great part of the day; until atlast, Mr. Henderland, after expressing his delight in my company, andsatisfaction at meeting with a friend of Mr. Campbell's ("whom," sayshe, "I will make bold to call that sweet singer of our covenantedZion"), proposed that I should make a short stage, and lie the night inhis house a little beyond Kingairloch. To say truth, I was overjoyed;for I had no great desire for John of the Claymore, and since my doublemisadventure, first with the guide and next with the gentleman skipper,I stood in some fear of any Highland stranger. Accordingly we shookhands upon the bargain, and came in the afternoon to a small house,standing alone by the shore of the Linnhe Loch. The sun was already gonefrom the desert mountains of Ardgour upon the hither side, but shone onthose of Appin on the farther; the loch lay as still as a lake, only thegulls were crying round the sides of it; and the whole place seemedsolemn and uncouth.
We had no sooner come to the door of Mr. Henderland's dwelling, than tomy great surprise (for I was now used to the politeness of Highlanders)he burst rudely past me, dashed into the room, caught up a jar and asmall horn spoon, and began ladling snuff into his nose in mostexcessive quantities. Then he had a hearty fit of sneezing, and lookedround upon me with a rather silly smile.
"It's a vow I took," says he. "I took a vow upon me that I wouldna carryit. Doubtless it's a great privation; but when I think upon the martyrs,not only to the Scottish Covenant but to other points of Christianity, Ithink shame to mind it."
As soon as we had eaten (and porridge and whey was the best of the goodman's diet) he took a grave face and said he had a duty to perform byMr. Campbell, and that was to inquire into my state of mind towards God.I was inclined to smile at him since the business of the snuff; but hehad not spoken long before he brought the tears into my eyes. There aretwo things that men should never weary of, goodness and humility; we getnone too much of them in this rough world among cold, proud people; butMr. Henderland had their very speech upon his tongue. And though I was agood deal puffed up with my adventures, and with having come off, as thesaying is, with flying colours; yet he soon had me on my knees beside asimple, poor old man, and both proud and glad to be there.
Before we went to bed he offered me sixpence to help me on my way, outof a scanty store he kept in the turf wall of his house; at which excessof goodness I knew not what to do. But at last he was so earnest withme, that I thought it the more mannerly part to let him have his way,and so left him poorer than myself.