Chapter XIV
Colonsay
Archie, having little else to do, spent much of his time in fishing.As a boy he had learned to be fond of the sport in the stream ofGlen Cairn; but the sea was new to him, and whenever the weatherpermitting he used to go out with the natives in their boats. TheIrish coast was but a few miles away, but there was little trafficbetween Rathlin and the mainland. The coast there is wild andforbidding, and extremely dangerous in case of a northerly galeblowing up suddenly. The natives were a wild and savage race, andmany of those who had fought to the last against the English refusedto submit when their chiefs laid down their arms, and took refugein the many caves and hiding places afforded in the wild and brokencountry on the north coast.
Thus no profitable trade was to be carried on with the Irishmainland. The people of Rathlin were themselves primitive in theirways. Their wants were few and easily satisfied. The wool of theirflocks furnished them with clothing, and they raised sufficient grainin sheltered spots to supply them with meal, while an abundance offood could be always obtained from the sea. In fine weather theytook more than sufficient for their needs, and dried the overplusto serve them when the winter winds kept their boats from puttingout. Once or twice in the year their largest craft, laden with driedfish, would make across to Ayr, and there disposing of its cargowould bring back such articles as were needed, and more preciousstill, the news of what was passing in the world, of which thesimple islanders knew so little. Even more than fishing, Archieloved when the wind blew wildly to go down to the shore and watchthe great waves rolling in and dashing themselves into foam onthe rocky coast. This to him was an entirely new pleasure, and heenjoyed it intensely. Perched on some projecting rock out of reachof the waves, he would sit for hours watching the grand scene,sometimes alone, sometimes with one or two of his comrades. Theinflux of a hundred visitors had somewhat straitened the islanders,and the fishermen were forced to put to sea in weather when theywould not ordinarily have launched their boats, for in the winterthey seldom ventured out unless the previous season had beenunusually bad, and the stores of food laid by insufficient for winterconsumption. Archie generally went out with an old man, who withtwo grownup sons owned a boat. They were bold and skilful fishermen,and often put to sea when no other boat cared to go out.
One evening the old man, as usual before going to sea, came intothe hut which Archie and Sir James Douglas inhabited, and told himthat he was going out early the next morning. "Fish are scarce,"he said, "and it would be a disgrace on us islanders if our guestswere to run short of food."
"I shall be ready, Donald," Archie replied, "and I hope we shallhave good sport."
"I can't see what pleasure you take, Sir Archie," the young Douglassaid, when the fisherman had left, "in being tossed up and down onthe sea in a dirty boat, especially when the wind is high and thesea rough."
"I like it best then," Archie replied; "when the men are rowingagainst the wind, and the waves dash against the boat and the spraycomes over in blinding showers, I feel very much the same sort ofexcitement as I do in a battle. It is a strife with the elementsinstead of with men, but the feeling in both cases is akin, andI feel the blood dancing fast through my veins and my lips settightly together, just as when I stand shoulder to shoulder withmy retainers, and breast the wave of English horsemen."
"Well, each to his taste, I suppose," Douglas said, laughing; "Ihave not seen much of war yet, and I envy you with all my heart thefights which you have gone through; but I can see no amusement ingetting drenched to the skin by the sea. I think I can understandyour feeling, though, for it is near akin to my own when I sit onthe back of a fiery young horse, who has not yet been broken, andfeel him battle with his will against mine, and bound, and rear,and curvet in his endeavours to throw me, until at last he isconquered and obeys the slightest touch of the rein."
"No doubt it is the same feeling," Archie replied; "it is the joyof strife in another form. For myself, I own I would rather fighton foot than on horseback; I can trust myself better than I cantrust my steed, can wheel thrice while he is turning once, can defendboth sides equally well; whereas on horseback, not only have I todefend myself but my horse, which is far more difficult, and if heis wounded and falls I may be entangled under him and be helplessat the mercy of an opponent."
"But none acquitted them better on horseback at Methven than youdid, Sir Archie," the young fellow said, admiringly. "Did you notsave the king, and keep at bay his foes till your retainers cameup with their pikes and carried him off from the centre of theEnglish chivalry?"
"I did my best," Archie said, "as one should always do; but I felteven then that I would rather have been fighting on foot."
"That is because you have so much skill with your weapon, SirArchie," Douglas said. "On horseback with mace or battleaxe it ismainly a question of sheer strength, and though you are very strongthere are others who are as strong as you. Now, it is allowed thatnone of the king's knights and followers are as skilful as youwith the sword, and even the king himself, who is regarded as thesecond best knight in Europe, owns that on foot and with a swordhe has no chance against you. That we all saw when you practicedfor the amusement of the queen and her ladies in the mountains ofLennox. None other could even touch you, while you dented all ourhelmets and armour finely with that sword of yours. Had we continuedthe sport there would not have been a whole piece of armour amongus save your own harness."
Archie laughed. "I suppose, Douglas, we all like best that in whichwe most excel. There are many knights in the English army who wouldassuredly overthrow me either in the tilting ring or in the field,for I had not the training on horseback when quite young which isneeded to make a perfect knight, while I had every advantage in thelearning of sword playing, and I stick to my own trade. The worldis beginning to learn that a man on foot is a match for ahorseman--Wallace taught Europe that lesson. They are slow to believe it,for hitherto armed knights have deemed themselves invincible, andhave held in contempt all foot soldiers. Stirling, and Falkirk,and Loudon Hill have taught them the difference, but it will be along time before they fairly own a fact so mortifying to chivalry;but the time will come, be well assured, when battles will befought almost with infantry alone. Upon them the brunt of the daywill fall, and by them will victory be decided, while horsemenwill be used principally for pursuing the foe when he is broken,for covering the retreat of infantry by desperate charges, or bycharging into the midst of a fray when the infantry are broken."
"All the better for Scotland," James Douglas said, cheerfully."We are not a nation of horsemen, and our mountains and hills, ourforests and morasses, are better adapted for infantry than cavalry;so if ever the change you predict come to pass we shall be gainersby it."
At daybreak next morning Archie went down to the cove where hisfriend the fisherman kept his boat. The old man and his two sonswere already there, but had not launched their craft.
"I like not the look of the weather," the fisherman said whenArchie joined him. "The sky is dull and heavy, the sea is blackand sullen, but there is a sound in the waves as they break againstthe rocks which seems to tell of a coming storm. I think, however,it will be some hours before it breaks, and if we have luck we mayget a haul or two before it comes on."
"I am ready to go or stay," Archie said; "I have no experience inyour weather here, and would not urge you against your own judgment,whatever it be; but if you put out I am ready to go with you."
"We will try it," the fisherman said, "for food is running short;but we will not go far from the shore, so that we can pull back ifthe weather gets worse."
The boat was soon launched, the nets and oars were already onboard, and they quickly put out from the shore. The boat carrieda small square sail, which was used when running before the wind.In those days the art of navigation was in its infancy, and the artof tacking against the wind had scarcely begun to be understood;indeed, so high were the ships out of water, with their lofty poopsand forecastles, that it was scarce possible
to sail them on awind, so great was the leeway they made. Thus when contrary windscame mariners anchored and waited as patiently as they might fora change, and voyage to a port but two days' sail with a favouringwind was a matter of weeks when it was foul.
After rowing a mile from land the nets were put out, and for sometime they drifted near these. From time to time the old fishermancast an anxious eye at the sky.
"We must get in our nets," he said at last decidedly; "the wind isrising fast, and is backing from the west round to the south. Bequick, lads, for ere long the gale will be on us in its strength,and if 'tis from the south we may well be blown out to sea."
Without a moment's delay the fishermen set to work to get in the nets,Archie lending a hand to assist them. The younger men thoroughlyagreed in their father's opinion of the weather, but they knew toowell the respect due to age to venture upon expressing an opinionuntil he had first spoken. The haul was a better one than they hadexpected, considering that the net had been down but two hours.
"'Tis not so bad," the fisherman said, "and the catch will be rightwelcome--that is," he added, as he looked toward the land, "ifwe get it safely on shore."
The wind was now blowing strongly, but if it did not rise the boatwould assuredly make the land. Archie took the helm, having learnedsomewhat of the steering on previous excursions, and the threefishermen tugged at the oars. It was a cross sea, for although thewind now blew nearly in their teeth, it had until the last halfhour been from the west, and the waves were rolling in from theAtlantic. The boat, however, made fair progress, and Archie beganto think that the doubts of the fishermen as to their making theshore were in no wise justified, when suddenly a gust, far strongerthan those they had hitherto met, struck the boat. "Keep her headstraight!" the fisherman shouted. "Don't let the wind take it oneside or the other. Stick to it, boys; row your hardest; it is onus now and in earnest, I fear."
The three men bent to their oars, but Archie felt that they wereno longer making headway. The boat was wide and high out of thewater; a good sea boat, but very hard to row against the wind.Although the men strained at the oars, till Archie expected to seethe tough staves crack under their efforts, the boat did not seemto move. Indeed it appeared to Archie that in the brief space whenthe oars were out of the water the wind drove her further back thanthe distance she had gained in the last stroke. He hoped, however,that the squall was merely temporary, and that when it subsidedthere would still be no difficulty in gaining the land. His hopewas not realized. Instead of abating, the wind appeared each momentto increase in force. Clouds of spray were blown on the top ofthe waves, so that at times Archie could not see the shore beforehim. For nearly half an hour the fishermen struggled on, butArchie saw with dismay that the boat was receding from the shore,and that they had already lost the distance they had gained beforethe squall struck them. The old fisherman looked several times overhis shoulder.
"It is of no use," he said at last; "we shall never make Rathlin,and must even run before the gale. Put up the helm, young sir, andtake her round. Wait a moment till the next wave has passed underus--now!" In another minute the boat's head was turned from land,and she was speeding before the gale.
"In with your oars, lads, and rig the mast, reef down the sail tothe last point; we must show a little to keep her dead before thewind; we shall have a tremendous sea when we are once fairly awayfrom the shelter of the island. This gale will soon knock up thesea, and with the cross swell from the Atlantic it will be as muchas we can do to carry through it."
The mast was stepped and a mere rag of sail hoisted, but this wassufficient to drive the boat through the water at a great speed.The old fisherman was steering now, and when the sail was hoistedthe four men all gathered in the stern of the boat.
"You will go between Islay and Jura, I suppose," one of the youngermen said.
"Ay," his father said briefly; "the sea will be too high to windwardof Islay."
"Could we not keep inside Jura?" Archie suggested; "and shelter insome of the harbours on the coast of Argyle?"
"Ay," the old man said; "could we be sure of doing that it wouldbe right enough, but, strong as the wind is blowing her, it willbe stronger still when we get in the narrow waters between theislands and the mainland, and it would be impossible to keep hereven a point off the wind; then if we missed making a harbour weshould be driven up through the Strait of Corrievrekan, and thebiggest ship which sails from a Scottish port would not live in thesea which will be running there. No, it will be bad enough passingbetween Islay and Jura; if we get safely through that I shall tryto run into the narrow strait between Colonsay and Oronsay; therewe should have good and safe shelter. If we miss that, we mustrun inside Mull--for there will be no getting without it--andeither shelter behind Lismore island far up the strait, or behindKerara, or into the passage to Loch Etive."
"It will not be the last, I hope," Archie said, "for there standsDunstaffnage Castle, and the lands all belong to the MacDougalls.It is but two months back I was a prisoner there, and though I thenescaped, assuredly if I again get within its walls I shall nevergo out again. As well be drowned here."
"Then we will hope," the fisherman said, "that 'tis into some otherharbour that this evil wind may blow us; but as you see, young sir,the gale is the master and not we, and we must needs go where itchooses to take us."
Fiercer and fiercer blew the gale; a tremendous cross sea was nowrunning, and the boat, stout and buoyant as she was, seemed everymoment as if she would be engulfed in the chaos of water. Small asthe sail had been it had been taken down and lashed with ropes tothe yard, so that now only about three square feet of canvas wasset.
"We can show a little more," the fisherman shouted in Archie's ear,"when we get abreast of Islay, for we shall then be sheltered fromthe sea from the west, and can run more boldly with only a followingsea; but till we get out of this cross tumble we must not carryon, we only want steerage way to keep her head straight."
Never before had Archie Forbes seen a great gale in all its strengthat sea, for those which had occurred while at Rathlin were as nothingto the present; and although on the hillside round Glen Cairn thewind sometimes blew with a force which there was no withstanding,there was nothing to impress the senses as did this wild confusionand turmoil of water. Buoyant as was the boat, heavy seas often brokeon board her, and two hands were constantly employed in bailing;still Archie judged from the countenance of the men that they didnot deem the position desperate, and that they believed the craftwould weather the gale. Towards midday, although the wind blewas strongly as ever, there was a sensible change in the motion ofthe boat. She no longer was tossed up and down with jerky and suddenmotion, as the waves seemed to rise directly under her, but roseand fell on the following waves with a steady and regular motion.
"We are well abreast of Islay," the old fisherman said when Archieremarked on the change to him. "There! do you not see that darkbank through the mist; that is Islay. We have no longer a cross sea,and can show a little more sail to keep her from being pooped. Wewill bear a little off toward the land--we must keep it in sight,and not too far on our left, otherwise we may miss the straits andrun on to Jura."
A little more sail was accordingly shown to the gale, and the boatscudded along at increased speed.
"How far is it to Colonsay?" Archie asked.
"Between fifty and sixty miles from Rathlin," the fisherman said."It was eight o'clock when we started, ten when the squall struckus, it will be dark by four, and fast as we are running we shallscarcely be in time to catch the last gleam of day. Come, boys,"he said to his sons, "give her a little more canvas still, for itis life and death to reach Colonsay before nightfall, for if wemiss it we shall be dashed on to the Mull long before morning."
A little more sail was accordingly shown, and the boat tore throughthe water at what seemed to Archie to be tremendous speed; but shewas shipping but little water now, for though the great waves asthey neared her stern seemed over and over again to Archie as ifthe
y would break upon her and send her instantly to the bottom,the stout boat always lifted lightly upon them until he at lengthfelt free from apprehension on that score. Presently the fishermanpointed out a dark mass over their other bow.
"That is Jura," he said; "we are fair for the channel, lads, butyou must take in the sail again to the smallest rag, for the windwill blow through the gap between the islands with a force fit totear the mast out of her."
Through the rest of his life Archie Forbes regarded that passagebetween Islay and Jura as the most tremendous peril he had everencountered. Strong as the wind had been before, it was as nothingto the force with which it swept down the strait--the height ofthe waves was prodigious, and the boat, as it passed over the crestof a wave, seemed to plunge down a very abyss. The old fishermancrouched low in the boat, holding the helm, while the other threelay on the planks in the bottom. Speech was impossible, for theloudest shouts would have been drowned in the fury of the storm. Inhalf an hour the worst was over. They were through the straits andout in the open sea again, but Islay now made a lee for them, andthe sea, high as it was, was yet calm in comparison to the tremendouswaves in the Strait of Jura. More sail was hoisted again, and inan hour the fisherman said, "Thank God, there are the islands."The day was already fading, and Archie could with difficulty makeout the slightly dark mass to which the helm pointed.
"Is that Colonsay?" he asked.
"It is Oronsay," the fisherman said. "The islands are close togetherand seem as if they had once been one, but have been cleft asunderby the arm of a giant. The strait between them is very narrow, andonce within it we shall be perfectly sheltered. We must make asclose to the point of the island as we can well go, so as not totouch the rocks, and then turn and enter the strait. If we keepout any distance we shall be blown past the entrance, and then ouronly remaining chance is to try and run her on to Colonsay, andtake the risk of being drowned as she is dashed upon the rocks."
The light had almost faded when they ran along at the end of Oronsay.Archie shuddered as he saw the waves break upon the rocks and flyhigh up into the air, and felt how small was the chance of theirescape should they be driven on a coast like that. They were butfifty yards from the point when they came abreast of its extremity;then the fisherman put down the helm and turned her head towardsthe strait, which opened on their left.
"Down with the sail and mast, lads, and out with your oars; we mustrow her in."
Not a moment was lost, the sail was lowered, the mast unstepped,and the oars got out, with a speed which showed how urgent wasthe occasion. Archie, who did not feel confidence in his powerto manager her now in such a sea, took his seat by the man on thestroke thwart, and double banked his oar. Five minutes desperaterowing and they were under shelter of Oronsay, and were rowing morequickly up the narrow strait and towards the shore of Colonsay,where they intended to land. A quarter of an hour more and theystepped ashore.
The old fisherman raised his hat reverently. "Let us thank Godand all the saints," he said, "who have preserved us through suchgreat danger. I have been nigh fifty years at sea, and never wasout in so wild a gale."
For a few minutes all stood silent and bare headed, returningfervent thanks for their escape.
"It is well," the old man said, as they moved inland, "that I havebeen so far north before; there are but few in Rathlin who haveeven been north of Islay, but sometimes when fish have been veryplentiful in the island, and the boat for Ayr had already gone,I have taken up a boatload of fish to the good monks of Colonsay,who, although fairly supplied by their own fishermen, were yetalways ready to pay a good price for them. Had you been in a boatwith one who knew not the waters, assuredly we must have perished,for neither skill nor courage could have availed us. There! do yousee that light ahead? That is the priory, and you may be sure ofa welcome there."
The priory door was opened at their ring, and the monk who unclosedit, greatly surprised at visitors on such a night, at once badethem enter when he heard that they were fishermen whom the stormhad driven to shelter on the island. The fishermen had to lendtheir aid to the monk to reclose the door, so great was the powerof the wind. The monk shot the bolts, saying, "We need expect nofurther visitors tonight;" and led them into the kitchen, where ahuge fire was blazing.
"Quick, brother Austin," he said to the monk, who acted as cook,"warm up a hot drink for these poor souls, for they must assuredlybe well nigh perished with cold, seeing that they have been wetfor many hours and exposed to all the violence of this wintry gale."
Archie and his companions were, indeed, stiff with cold and exposure,and could scarce answer the questions which the monks asked them.
"Have patience, brother! have patience!" brother Austin said. "Whentheir tongues are unfrozen doubtless they will tell you all thatyou want to know. Only wait, I pray you, till they have drunk thisposset which I am preparing."
The monk's curiosity was not, however, destined to be so speedilysatisfied, for just as the voyagers were finishing their hot drinksa monk entered with a message that the prior, having heard thatsome strangers had arrived, would fain welcome and speak with themin his apartment. They rose at once.
"When the prior has done questioning you," brother Austin said,"return hither at once. I will set about preparing supper for you,for I warrant me you must need food as well as drink. Fear not but,however great your appetite may be, I will have enough to satisfyit ready by the time you return."
"Welcome to Colonsay!" the prior said, as the four men entered hisapartment; "but stay--I see you are drenched to the skin; and itwere poor hospitality, indeed, to keep you standing thus even toassure you of your welcome. Take them," he said to the monk, "tothe guest chamber at once, and furnish them with changes of attire.When they are warm and comfortable return with them hither."
In ten minutes Archie and his companions re-entered the prior'sroom. The prior looked with some astonishment at Archie; for inthe previous short interview he had not noticed the difference intheir attire, and had supposed them to be four fishermen. The monk,however, had marked the difference; and on inquiry, finding thatArchie was a knight, had furnished him with appropriate attire.The good monks kept a wardrobe to suit guests of all ranks, seeingthat many visitors came to the holy priory, and that sometimes thewind and waves brought them to shore in such sorry plight that achange of garments was necessary.
"Ah!" the prior said, in surprise; "I crave your pardon sir knight,that I noticed not your rank when you first entered. The light issomewhat dim, and as you stood there together at the door way Inoticed not that you were of superior condition to the others."
"That might well be, holy prior," Archie said, "seeing that wewere more like drowned beasts than Christian men. We have had amarvellous escape from the tempest--thanks to God and his saints!--seeingthat we were blown off Rathlin, and have run before thegale down past Islay and through the Straits of Jura. Next to theprotection of God and His saints, our escape is due to the skilland courage of my brave companions here, who were as cool and calmin the tempest as if they had been sitting by the ingle fires athome."
"From Rathlin!" the prior said in surprise, "and through the strait'twixt Islay and Jura! Truly that was a marvellous voyage in sucha gale--and as I suppose, in an open boat. But how comes it,sir knight--if I may ask the question without prying into yourprivate affairs--that you, a knight, were at Rathlin? In so wildand lonely an island men of your rank are seldom to be found."
"There are many there now, holy prior, far higher in rank thanmyself," Archie replied, "seeing that Robert the Bruce, crowned Kingof Scotland, James Douglas, and others of his nobles and knights,are sheltering there with him from the English bloodhounds."
"The Bruce at Rathlin!" the prior exclaimed, in surprise. "Thelast ship which came hither from the mainland told us that he wasa hunted fugitive in Lennox; and we deemed that seeing the MacDougallsof Lorne and all the surrounding chiefs were hostile to him, andthe English scattered thickly over all the low country, he mustlong ere this have
fallen into the hands of his enemies."
"Thanks to Heaven's protection," Archie said devoutly, "the kingwith a few followers escaped and safely reached Rathlin!"
"Thou shouldst not speak of Heaven's protection," the prior said,sternly, "seeing that Bruce has violated the sanctuary of thechurch, has slain his enemy within her walls, has drawn down uponhimself the anathema of the pope, and has been declared excommunicatedand accursed."
"The pope, holy father," Archie replied, "although supreme inall holy things, is but little qualified to judge of the matter,seeing that he draws his information from King Edward, under whoseprotection he lives. The good Bishops of St. Andrews and Glasgow,with the Abbot of Scone, and many other dignitaries of the Scottishchurch, have condoned his offense, seeing that it was committedin hot blood and without prior intent. The king himself bitterlyregrets the deed, which preys sorely upon his mind; but I can answerfor it that Bruce had no thought of meeting Comyn at Dumfries."
"You speak boldly, young sir," the prior said, sternly, "for oneover whose head scarce two-and-twenty years can have rolled; butenough now. You are storm staid and wearied; you are the guests ofthe convent. I will not keep you further now, for you have needof food and sleep. Tomorrow I will speak with you again."
So saying, the prior sharply touched a bell which stood on a tablenear him. The monk re-entered. The prior waved his hand: "Take theseguests to the refectory and see that they have all they stand inneed of, and that the bed chambers are prepared. In the morning Iwould speak to them again."