Adam Hepburn's Vow: A Tale of Kirk and Covenant

  *CHAPTER XXV.*

  *AIRSMOSS.*

  Poor Watty McBean's hole in the Witches' Cleugh had indeed been of greatbenefit to many fugitives, and it had never been empty since the fleeingafter the slaughter at Bothwell. During the next day the minister ofBroomhill repaired in his disguise to that safe hiding, in order to seethe brethren there, and so commune with them regarding their presentstate, and the future fate or welfare of them and such as them. As hepursued his way leisurely along the sequestered and lonely paths whichled to the cleugh, he mused much on the wonderful way in which the Lordhad led him hitherto. He also marvelled within himself that he had beenso long spared, and in his heart there was a petition that he might bemade willing and glad to continue his suffering and weary way throughlife, until the Lord should see fit to call him to Himself. Theseprofitable and godly communings were interrupted somewhat summarily bythe abrupt appearance of two dragoons, who came rapidly riding up fromthe direction of the cleugh, and who immediately drew rein at the sightof the woman, as they imagined the wayfarer to be.

  "Hulloa, mistress! do you know anything of that confounded lair where somany Whigs sleep in safety?" queried one, fixing his piercing eye on theface of David Gray.

  "Truly the Whigs have had many hiding places in this district," heanswered, mildly. "To what one do you specially refer?"

  "Faith, I hardly know; it is somewhere about these hills or in thevalley between," said the dragoon, pointing backward to the cleugh. "Weare creditably informed that several very noted rebels were concealedthere, and me and my mate swore an oath that we should find the place,which has baffled the king's soldiers so long. We have made a thoroughsearch, but can find no clue."

  "I never heard of any place of concealment among those hills," saidDavid Gray. "Those who are so eager to inform sometimes overreachthemselves, and----"

  "Leave the hag in peace, Munro!" interrupted the younger man,impatiently. "I believe she is right enough, and we were told lies tobeguile us. I for one will get away out of this confounded districtwith what speed I can. My horse is dead lame, see, stumbling throughthat accursed ravine."

  Marvelling much at the very easy manner in which he had escapedquestioning, David Gray watched the two ride away, but did not thenpursue his way to the cleugh, lest he should unwittingly betray hisbrethren. But his soul, long separated from such as had suffered likepersecutions with him, was yearning for the sweet fellowship ofbrotherly counsel, both for the strengthening of his own hands andheart, and also to learn, if possible, whether any of the more notedsaints were still alive. He felt himself deeply and peculiarly blessedin the communion he was privileged to obtain with that poor remnant ofhis kinsfolk still dwelling in the parish of Inverburn, and during theevening of that day the women and the young folk at Hartrigge were muchedified with his conversation and with his exposition of the Word. Itwas long, indeed, since such a joy had been vouchsafed to them. Owingto the somewhat limited accommodation of the humble dwelling which nowsheltered the Grays, the lad, Sandy, went down to Inverburn to sleep inthe house of an old woman, who gladly gave him shelter for his father'ssake. Nannie, with her aunts, abode in the kitchen, and the best endwas given up to the minister. They retired early to rest, and in spiteof the troubles and anxieties which encompassed them, very soon allbeneath the roof-tree of the cottage were asleep. The atmosphere hadbeen dull and heavy all day, and the night was dark and starless; thelow-hanging, sullen presaging rain, of which the parched earth stood insore need. About midnight Susan Gray, who slept lightly, was awakenedby a sound she had heard so often during these past weary years, thatshe could not mistake it now. It was the tramp of hoofs, and in amoment a wild fear that even already the minister was betrayed tookpossession of her soul. Hastily awaking Jane, both strang up, threw ontheir outer garments, and stealing over to the casement, which was alittle ajar to admit the fresh air, they peered fearfully out. Thenight was utterly, intensely dark, and they could see nothing, but theycould hear now both the trampling and the snorting of horses, and alsoat a little distance the low, eager voices of men. Through the still,soundless air their strained ears caught these words:--

  "He shall not escape us this time, I swear! Egad! it was a cleverdisguise!--a wench's idea, without doubt. To think that old hag we metpeddling her wares in Walston was that veritable heretic David Gray, andwe knew it not! It is enough to make a man ashamed of himself!"

  Swiftly and silently Jane Gray stole across the narrow passage to theinner room, and awakened her brother, who was enjoying a very sound andrefreshing repose. By the time she had made him aware of the danger athand, the troop had quite surrounded the house, and a great noise brokethe stillness of the summer night.

  David Gray sprang from his bed to the floor, thinking his hour was come.And yet, was it but to be slain in cold blood like this that the Lordhad let him get clear away both from the slaughter at Bothwell and thewearisome captivity of the Greyfriars?

  In that moment of agonising suspense and apprehension, when he wasstriving to prepare for death, even with a soul yearning for life, hiseye, as if guided by some unseen power, fell upon the wide,old-fashioned chimney, and in a moment his resolution was taken. Evenwhen the foot of the enemy was on the very threshold of the outer door,the fugitive wrapped a plaid about his white night-clothes, and,committing himself to the God who had so often delivered him, he hastilyscrambled up the chimney and out on to the roof. Jane Gray did not seehim perform this extraordinary action, she having gone to accost, and,if possible, conciliate and delay, the officer at the outer door.

  Without hesitating a moment, knowing he would speedily be observed onthe roof, David Gray lay himself flat down, and, sliding down to theeaves, dropped to the ground in front of a mounted dragoon. Theapparition in waving white garments terrified the horse, and caused himto rear and plunge wildly, so that his rider was almost unseated. Inthe momentary confusion that ensued the fugitive took to his heels, andin a brief space was out of sight and beyond pursuit. Meanwhile, quiteunconscious of this miraculous escape, Jane Gray was endeavouring toparley with the officer at the door.

  "Sorry to disturb your repose, sweet mistress," he said. "If you willbut deliver up that renegade, David Gray, who is sheltering here, wewill go away and leave you in peace."

  "David Gray!" ejaculated Jane Gray, faintly; "what men-folk have weunder this roof-tree, sir? The only stranger here is a relative, who hastravelled a great distance on foot to sojourn awhile with us, if that bea fault in your eyes."

  "Does the stranger wear a linsey-woolsey gown, a tartan plaid, and awhite cap, and peddle ribbons and laces to the country lasses, eh?"queried the captain, with grim humour. "To show you that we do notdoubt your word, bring out the old lady, so that we may pay our respectsto her. Methinks we have met before."

  At her wits' end, Jane Gray turned about and went into the room, which,to her astonishment, seemed to be empty. The captain followed her, and,not finding the fugitive there, strode into the kitchen. Susan Gray andNannie were there, and it needed but one glance at their faces to tellhim that neither was the person he sought.

  "Your kinswoman has hidden herself, I perceive," he said, grimly. "Youhad better bid her come forth, or I will give orders to set the place onfire. I have no time to dally here; it is time all honest folk were inbed."

  "We are guiltless of hiding him you seek, sir," said Jane Gray, nolonger attempting to deny that her brother had been sheltering withthem. "And, truly, where in this small abode could he hide? It is amystery to me where he has gone, unless, indeed, the Lord hathmiraculously aided his escape."

  At that moment one of the dragoons came hurrying in to say that theprisoner had without doubt made his escape from the roof, and wasalready beyond pursuit. Then the captain fell into a great rage, andcursed and swore in a manner which made the women-folk tremble. Andtruly it was a sore disappointment to the man to have had so valuableand notable a Covenanter within hi
s very reach, and yet to be baulked sosimply. In his fury he was like to have taken the lives of thefugitive's kinswomen, but was persuaded by a more merciful subordinateto let them be in peace. Nevertheless, he caused lighted brands to beheld to the thatched roof of the cottage, and, being dry as tinder, itimmediately took fire.

  In a short space of time the darkness of the night was illumined by theflames of the burning cottage, and the three defenceless women, nowrendered indeed utterly homeless, hastily gathered such small butvaluable things as they could carry, and, withdrawing themselves alittle, watched the rapid destruction of the only shelter they couldcall their own on the face of the earth. Yet they could not feelutterly cast down, since God had so marvellously delivered the dearfugitive out of the hands of the pursuer once more. The captain and histroop immediately rode away down to the village, to inflict themselveson such of the inhabitants as could yet give them bite and sup andshelter for the night. Meanwhile David Gray fled, under the gratefulcover of the darkness, by the familiar field-paths to poor Watty'sfamous hiding, where he knew he should find both shelter and comfortingwelcome from his brethren. His long residence in the cleugh had madehim so familiar with it, that even in the darkness he had no difficultywhatever in finding the thicket which hid the cave. And yet he had tocreep slowly and with caution, for the nettles and brambles andbrushwood proved very formidable to his uncovered limbs, and his feetwere already bleeding from coming into contact with the stones as hemade his rapid flight from the cottage. As he came up nearly to themouth of the cave, he gave a long, low whistle, which Jane had told himwas a signal understood by those in hiding. In a few minutes it wasanswered by a similar sound, and the brushwood was carefully swept asidefrom the mouth of the cave, and he saw the figure of a man.

  "Who comes?" a voice said, in an anxious whisper.

  "A brother in sore straits, whom the Lord, of His good pleasure, haththis night marvellously delivered," answered David Gray, and at that theman standing at the mouth of the cave stretched out his hand and drewthe new-comer into the dimly-lighted recess beyond. In this place therewere no fewer than seven persons, both old, young, and middle-aged,whose faces were thin and worn, as if they had suffered much privation.They looked with no little astonishment upon the strangely-attiredfigure which appeared so suddenly in their midst, and one, an elderlyman, of very grave and reverent aspect, after looking intently on hisface, jumped up and grasped him by the hand.

  "David Gray, an I mistake not, whom I last saw in grips with the enemyat Bothwell Brig!" he exclaimed.

  "And whom the Lord hath marvellously preserved from that woeful day tothis," supplemented David Gray. "Little did I think last time we met,Mr. Donald Cargill, that we should look upon each other's faces again,and in this place of all places."

  "Verily, strange are the vicissitudes of the scattered remnant of theLord's Zion," said Mr. Cargill. "I have been obliged to keep in hidingthese few days, being sore pursued by a troop of dragoons for preachingat Lanark and at various other places in Clydesdale; but come, tell uswhat hath befallen thee of late, and by what means thou art come hitherin this strange attire."

  Nothing loth, David Gray entered upon the recital of his excitingexperiences during the last two months, and when he had finished, Mr.Cargill had his story to tell, and in this pathetic and mournfullyinteresting talk the night speedily wore away. Although Mr. Cargill hadbeen obliged to flee for his life to the shelter of the cleugh, it wasimpossible for one of his ardent and restless spirit to remain longinactive. As soon as they heard from a trusty reporter, who carriedthem both provisions and news from Inverburn, that the hot pursuit wasslackened in the neighbourhood, he announced his intention of goingforth once more to the preaching of the Word.

  Fired by the eloquence and zeal of the old man, and feeling himself muchpersuaded to testify in public once more, David Gray petitioned that hemight be allowed to go forth in company with him. So the twain quittedtheir hiding, and travelled eastwards towards Edinburgh, preaching asthey went, and meeting with many perils, out of which they had manymarvellous deliverances, which would occupy too long a space to recount.In the spring of 1680, new life was infused into the scattered andsometimes fainting remnant, by the return to Scotland of that eloquentpreacher and godly man, Richard Cameron, who had been persuaded toretire to Holland for a time previous to the Battle of Bothwell.

  In his exile his heart had never ceased to yearn over his sufferingnative land, and the desire to cast in his lot with his persecutedbrethren became so strong at length, that it could not be set aside. Itwas with great joy that the few earnest souls still left welcomed himback to their midst, and Donald Cargill and David Gray immediatelyjoined themselves to him, and the three went about continually preachingand exhorting the people to hold fast to their faith, for the cause forwhich they suffered was just and righteous, and must in the end prevail.

  It was not long ere these faithful and undaunted men became speciallyobserved of those in high places, and they were vigorously andrelentlessly pursued from place to place, but managed to elude thevigilance of those following so continuously in their track. AmongCameron's most close and faithful adherents was brave Hackstoun ofRathillet, who, since Bothwell, had been a wanderer on the face of theearth, having given up all for Christ's sake.

  One summer's day a small party of horsemen rode into the little town ofSanquhar, and startled the good folk both by their wayworn and haggardappearance and by their proceedings.

  They drew rein at the market cross, and Richard Cameron, their leader,dismounted and slowly read a declaration denying the right of Charles tothe throne of Scotland, stigmatising him as a tyrant and perjurer, andsolemnly declaring war against him for all time coming.

  That done, they rode away as rapidly and mysteriously as they had come,and did not halt till they reached a lonely spot among the hills, wherethey ventured to rest awhile.

  "After what we have done this day," said Mr. Cameron, wiping themidsummer heat from his brow, "I fear it will no longer be safe for usto continue together; and besides, I cannot but think that were we toseparate away in different directions we could the better break thebread of life to our starving brethren. What say you, Mr. Cargill? Wereit not better that each man of us should go his own way, preaching andexhorting wherever the Lord giveth time and opportunity?"

  "Truly, brother, your suggestion savours of wisdom and prudence," saidMr. Cargill, with approval. "But ere we separate we had better agree asto a time when we can again meet together to compare our experiences andstrengthen each other's hands for renewed conflict."

  "I fear me, brethren, that the end is nigh at hand for more than one ofus," said the sweet voice of David Hackstoun. "I, at least, have beenvisited of late with very precious presentiments of a speedy releasefrom these troubles. Therefore I would say it matters little whether webe together or separate, seeing that, save it be the Lord's time, noevil can befall us."

  "Strange that Mr. Hackstoun's presentiments should have visited melikewise," said Richard Cameron. "I am convinced that my race is nearlyrun; therefore, during what little space is still vouchsafed to me onthis earth, I would continue my Lord's work with renewed vigilance, lestwhen He cometh He should find his unworthy servant asleep."

  "As regards Mr. Cargill's proposal that we should make an agreement tomeet, I fear that would be useless," said David Gray. "I think weshould but wish each other God speed, and leave our future meeting inGod's hands. Doubtless, if it be His good pleasure, He will bring ustogether again in due season, if not here, in His own kingdom, whitherwe are all hastening with more or less speed."

  This latter suggestion was approved, and, after holding a solemnfarewell service together, they parted, not knowing whether they shouldlook upon each other's faces again. Mr. Cameron travelled westward toNew Monkland, preaching boldly as he went, to the no little comfort ofthe few to whom the pure Word was yet precious. Hackstoun and DavidGray, with a few others, kept together in the south; but hearing, notmany days after
, that a heavy price was set on Cameron's head, and thathe was being vigilantly pursued, they conferred together and decided toretire to the west and band themselves about him, so that, in the eventof the enemy falling upon him, there might be some to defend him andrender him deliverance out of their hands. Accordingly, a guard underRathillet travelled across the familiar, and now sacred, ground in thesouth-western district, and came up with Cameron in Avondale, near thememorable field of Drumclog. To their joy, they found Mr. Cargill withhim, and on the Sabbath day a solemn service was held, in which all theministers took part. Mr. Cameron preached the sermon from the words,"Be still, and know that I am God," and as the eloquent and stirringwords fell from his lips, it was noted that his countenance seemedlighted with a radiance not of earth. After the service Mr. Cargillwent his way farther west, after agreeing that he should meet Cameronand the rest at Dermeid Muir on the following Sabbath day. During thenext few days Cameron's conversation was that of a man who was not longfor this world, and he never ceased to exhort those with him to continuesteadfast yet a while, for Scotland's deliverance was at hand. Heprophesied that the reign of bloodshed and terror would speedily beover, and that the Lord's Zion would ere long be rebuilt upon the ruinsof her past and present desolation. On the Wednesday of that week hewas sojourning in the house of a godly man at Meadowhead, on the Waterof Ayr, and to him and the folk with him in the house he expressed hisconviction that the Lord would, in a few hours' time, require him toseal his testimony with his blood. Hearing some report of a troop underBruce of Earlshall making vigilant search for him and his party, Cameronand his friends agreed to retire to the wild moorland which stretchedfor many miles between Cumnock and Muirkirk. It was a vast and drearywilderness, covered with heather and bracken, unrelieved by a green treeor a nodding floweret even in the midsummer time, when all Nature wasrejoicing in her wealth and beauty. Towards the east end of this moorCameron and his friends, being sore fatigued with a long march in theburning heat of the day, lay themselves down awhile to rest. In thissolitude they were surprised by the enemy--a large number of soldiersunder Earlshall--who came sweeping across the moor with a fury and speedwhich made it quite impossible for the faithful little band to escape.There was nothing for it but to fight, which the brave remnantimmediately decided to do, and quietly but resolutely looked to theirarms, and set themselves in order for the fray. It was a pitiable sightupon which the summer sun beat that July afternoon--that handful ofGod's people dauntlessly facing a goodly regiment of dragoons, all freshand eager for the fight. Ere the enemy was quite upon them, Cameron ledthe devotions of his brethren, and in his prayer said, with greatfervour, "Lord, spare the green and take the ripe."

  Then they exchanged a hand clasp and a solemn farewell, pledging eachother to meet in glory.

  It was a desperate fight.

  The Covenanters fought with conspicuous gallantry, and, even after braveCameron fell, they continued the conflict over his dead body.

  Seeing that there was no hope of victory, and that Rathillet and someothers were already taken captive, David Gray, in a last extremity,leaped upon the back of a horse whose rider had been slain, and, rapidlygalloping off the field, made his escape. Only one or two others wereequally fortunate, and so once again the Covenanters were swept awaybefore the oppressors like chaff on a windy day.

  Richard Cameron's remains were carried to Edinburgh, and his head wasfixed on the Netherbow port, where it was left to moulder and blacken inthe sun. Rathillet, after the usual mockery of a trial, was subjected toterrible and searching tortures, which he bore with a firmness whichastonished those who had seen evidence of his sweet yielding nature.His troubles were finally ended on the scaffold, and he went to receivehis exceeding great reward. Thus it seemed as if this most preciousblood of the Covenant, yea, every drop of it, must be spilled upon theground, ere the hour of Scotland's deliverance had come.

  By slow degrees, and through many strange perils, David Gray wanderedwearily back to his native parish. There were times when the weight ofhis many sorrows was like to overwhelm him, and when he could have criedout for the inheritance in heaven, to which so many of his brethren hadalready been admitted.

  Lurking in the wild solitudes of the mountains, depending for hissustenance upon a few ears of corn, or some of the wild fruits of theearth, it was little wonder if at times his soul fainted within him, andhe felt impelled to question the wherefore of these tribulations. Inhis weakness he was also frequently tempted fiercely by Satan to abjurethe cause for which he suffered, and to purchase life and immunity frompersecution at the Government price. But by God's grace he was enabledto pass unscathed through these fiery trials, and when at last he crept,a worn and wasted shadow, up his native vale, and sought the shelter ofthe witches' cleugh, his heart was once more at rest, and abidingsteadfastly on the Lord Christ. There were yet some fugitives in Watty'shiding-place, and out of her undying love for the cause, Jane Graystill, when opportunity offered, and when she possessed the wherewithal,stole thither with some relief. Great was her astonishment and joy tobehold there her brother David, whom they had of late quite given up asdead. The sight of a familiar and loved face restored anew David Gray'scourage and confidence, and he prayed earnestly to be forgiven histemptations to backsliding, with which he had been so sore beset in hisdesolation.

  In spite of the increased vigilance of the oppressors, meetings werestill held on the hill-sides and in sheltered nooks, for there yetremained some who would do and dare anything to hear the faithfulpreaching of the Word.

  Very often David Gray led these services, and at last it got noisedabroad that he was at large in the district of Inverburn, which, comingto Claverhouse's ears, made him swear a great oath that he should havehis head. But although on several separate occasions he had him almostin his clutches, the Lord interposed, and in many marvellous waysvouchsafed deliverance to His faithful servant. About that time itbecame almost an impossibility to hold a conventicle, for it was certainto become a massacre, so largely were the country districts infestedwith dragoons, yet there was indeed very little of the old leaven of theCovenant now left in the flesh, for the new generation which had arisensince the first glorious upstanding for the cause was lukewarm andindifferent, and too much taken up with the things of the world toconcern themselves much with religious matters.

  Within two years after Bothwell a great grief fell upon the few yetremaining faithful to the old cause.

  When James II. ascended the throne, after the death of Charles, hepublished an Act of Toleration, on the conditions of which manypersecuted wanderers were induced to return to their homes, and evensome ministers to their parishes. It was as deep a snare in its way asthe indulgence of Charles had been, its ultimate object being toestablish Papacy in Scotland. Into this net many fell, and it indeedseemed as if the martyrdom of the saints were to have no good harvest inthe land. But it being now the darkest hour, the dawning was at hand.

  Grown somewhat weary of life in their native land, and being soreexercised and perplexed by the condition of religious affairs therein,David Gray, with some others, made it a matter of prayerfulconsideration whether they should not retire to the Continent for aspace, and labour for the Master there. The conventicles, which couldonly now be held at long intervals, and under strict secrecy, werethinly attended, and not productive of any wide-spreading good, also theend of the struggle seemed at hand, in the utter extermination of thescattered remnant still faithful to the old doctrines and principles, sothat it indeed appeared as if there were no more work left for them todo in Scotland.

  After due deliberation, therefore, David Gray resolved to escape out ofthe country. Attiring himself in his former disguise, with which hissister Jane provided him, he travelled on foot without molestation toNewcastle-on-Tyne, where, after some little delay, he obtained shipmentin a trading vessel to Rotterdam, and there we lose sight of him for awhile.