Chương Chương 16 · AN UNEXPECTED ALLY APPEARS

. AN UNEXPECTED ALLY APPEARS

The Baron returned at the dinner-hour, and had in a great measure

recovered his composure and good-humour. He not only confirmed the

stories which Edward had heard from Rose and Bailie Macwheeble, but

added many anecdotes from his own experience, concerning the state of

the Highlands and their inhabitants. The chiefs he pronounced to be, in

general, gentlemen of great honour and high pedigree, whose word was

accounted as a law by all those of their own sept, or clan. “It did not

indeed,” he said, “become them, as had occurred in late instances, to

propone their _prosapia_, a lineage which rested for the most part on

the vain and fond rhymes of their seannachies or bhairds, as

æquiponderate with the evidence of ancient charters and royal grants of

antiquity, conferred upon distinguished houses in the Low Country by

divers Scottish monarchs; nevertheless, such was their _outrecuidance_

and presumption, as to undervalue those who possessed such evidents, as

if they held their lands in a sheep’s skin.”

This, by the way, pretty well explained the cause of quarrel between

the Baron and his Highland ally. But he went on to state so many

curious particulars concerning the manners, customs, and habits of this

patriarchal race that Edward’s curiosity became highly interested, and

he inquired whether it was possible to make with safety an excursion

into the neighbouring Highlands, whose dusky barrier of mountains had

already excited his wish to penetrate beyond them. The Baron assured

his guest that nothing would be more easy, providing this quarrel were

first made up, since he could himself give him letters to many of the

distinguished chiefs, who would receive him with the utmost courtesy

and hospitality.

While they were on this topic, the door suddenly opened, and, ushered

by Saunders Saunderson, a Highlander, fully armed and equipped, entered

the apartment. Had it not been that Saunders acted the part of master

of the ceremonies to this martial apparition, without appearing to

deviate from his usual composure, and that neither Mr. Bradwardine nor

Rose exhibited any emotion, Edward would certainly have thought the

intrusion hostile. As it was, he started at the sight of what he had

not yet happened to see, a mountaineer in his full national costume.

The individual Gael was a stout, dark, young man, of low stature, the

ample folds of whose plaid added to the appearance of strength which

his person exhibited. The short kilt, or petticoat, showed his sinewy

and clean-made limbs; the goatskin purse, flanked by the usual

defences, a dirk and steel-wrought pistol, hung before him; his bonnet

had a short feather, which indicated his claim to be treated as a

_duinhé-wassel_, or sort of gentleman; a broadsword dangled by his

side, a target hung upon his shoulder, and a long Spanish fowling-piece

occupied one of his hands. With the other hand he pulled off his

bonnet, and the Baron, who well knew their customs, and the proper mode

of addressing them, immediately said, with an air of dignity, but

without rising, and much, as Edward thought, in the manner of a prince

receiving an embassy, “Welcome, Evan Dhu Maccombich; what news from

Fergus Mac-Ivor Vich Ian Vohr?”

“Fergus Mac-Ivor Vich Ian Vohr,” said the ambassador, in good English,

“greets you well, Baron of Bradwardine and Tully-Veolan, and is sorry

there has been a thick cloud interposed between you and him, which has

kept you from seeing and considering the friendship and alliances that

have been between your houses and forebears of old; and he prays you

that the cloud may pass away, and that things may be as they have been

heretofore between the clan Ivor and the house of Bradwardine, when

there was an egg between them for a flint and a knife for a sword. And

he expects you will also say, you are sorry for the cloud, and no man

shall hereafter ask whether it descended from the hill to the valley,

or rose from the valley to the hill; for they never struck with the

scabbard who did not receive with the sword, and woe to him who would

lose his friend for the stormy cloud of a spring morning.”

To this the Baron of Bradwardine answered with suitable dignity, that

he knew the chief of Clan Ivor to be a well-wisher to the _king_, and

he was sorry there should have been a cloud between him and any

gentleman of such sound principles, “for when folks are banding

together, feeble is he who hath no brother.”

This appearing perfectly satisfactory, that the peace between these

august persons might be duly solemnised, the Baron ordered a stoup of

usquebaugh, and, filling a glass, drank to the health and prosperity of

Mac-Ivor of Glennaquoich; upon which the Celtic ambassador, to requite

his politeness, turned down a mighty bumper of the same generous

liquor, seasoned with his good wishes to the house of Bradwardine.

Having thus ratified the preliminaries of the general treaty of

pacification, the envoy retired to adjust with Mr. Macwheeble some

subordinate articles with which it was not thought necessary to trouble

the Baron. These probably referred to the discontinuance of the

subsidy, and apparently the Bailie found means to satisfy their ally,

without suffering his master to suppose that his dignity was

compromised. At least, it is certain, that after the plenipotentiaries

had drunk a bottle of brandy in single drams, which seemed to have no

more effect upon such seasoned vessels than if it had been poured upon

the two bears at the top of the avenue, Evan Dhu Maccombich, having

possessed himself of all the information which he could procure

respecting the robbery of the preceding night, declared his intention

to set off immediately in pursuit of the cattle, which he pronounced to

be “no that far off; they have broken the bone,” he observed, “but they

have had no time to suck the marrow.”

Our hero, who had attended Evan Dhu during his perquisitions, was much

struck with the ingenuity which he displayed in collecting information,

and the precise and pointed conclusions which he drew from it. Evan

Dhu, on his part, was obviously flattered with the attention of

Waverley, the interest he seemed to take in his inquiries, and his

curiosity about the customs and scenery of the Highlands. Without much

ceremony he invited Edward to accompany him on a short walk of ten or

fifteen miles into the mountains, and see the place where the cattle

were conveyed to; adding, “If it be as I suppose, you never saw such a

place in your life, nor ever will, unless you go with me or the like of

me.”

Our hero, feeling his curiosity considerably excited by the idea of

visiting the den of a Highland Cacus, took, however, the precaution to

inquire if his guide might be trusted. He was assured that the

invitation would on no account have been given had there been the least

danger, and that all he had to apprehend was a little fatigue; and, as

Evan proposed he should pass a day at his Chieftain’s house in

returning, where he would be sure of good accommodation and an

excellent welcome, there seemed nothing very formidable in the task he

undertook. Rose, indeed, turned pale when she heard of it; but her

father, who loved the spirited curiosity of his young friend, did not

attempt to damp it by an alarm of danger which really did not exist,

and a knapsack, with a few necessaries, being bound on the shoulders of

a sort of deputy gamekeeper, our hero set forth with a fowling-piece in

his hand, accompanied by his new friend Evan Dhu, and followed by the

gamekeeper aforesaid, and by two wild Highlanders, the attendants of

Evan, one of whom had upon his shoulder a hatchet at the end of a pole,

called a Lochaber-axe,[14] and the other a long ducking-gun. Evan, upon

Edward’s inquiry, gave him to understand that this martial escort was

by no means necessary as a guard, but merely, as he said, drawing up

and adjusting his plaid with an air of dignity, that he might appear

decently at Tully-Veolan, and as Vich Ian Vohr’s foster-brother ought

to do. “Ah!” said he, “if you Saxon _duinhé-wassel_ (English gentleman)

saw but the Chief with his tail on!”

“With his tail on?” echoed Edward in some surprise.

“Yes—that is, with all his usual followers, when he visits those of the

same rank. There is,” he continued, stopping and drawing himself

proudly up, while he counted upon his fingers the several officers of

his chief’s retinue; “there is his _hanchman_, or right-hand man; then

his _bàrd_, or poet; then his _bladier_, or orator, to make harangues

to the great folks whom he visits; then his _gilly-more_, or

armour-bearer, to carry his sword and target, and his gun; then his

_gilly-casfliuch_, who carries him on his back through the sikes and

brooks; then his _gilly-comstrian_, to lead his horse by the bridle in

steep and difficult paths; then his _gilly-trushharnish_, to carry his

knapsack; and the piper and the piper’s man, and it may be a dozen

young lads beside, that have no business, but are just boys of the

belt, to follow the Laird and do his honour’s bidding.”

“And does your Chief regularly maintain all these men?” demanded

Waverley.

“All these?” replied Evan; “ay, and many a fair head beside, that would

not ken where to lay itself, but for the mickle barn at Glennaquoich.”

With similar tales of the grandeur of the Chief in peace and war, Evan

Dhu beguiled the way till they approached more closely those huge

mountains which Edward had hitherto only seen at a distance. It was

towards evening as they entered one of the tremendous passes which

afford communication between the high and low country; the path, which

was extremely steep and rugged, winded up a chasm between two

tremendous rocks, following the passage which a foaming stream, that

brawled far below, appeared to have worn for itself in the course of

ages. A few slanting beams of the sun, which was now setting, reached

the water in its darksome bed, and showed it partially, chafed by a

hundred rocks and broken by a hundred falls. The descent from the path

to the stream was a mere precipice, with here and there a projecting

fragment of granite, or a scathed tree, which had warped its twisted

roots into the fissures of the rock. On the right hand, the mountain

rose above the path with almost equal inaccessibility; but the hill on

the opposite side displayed a shroud of copsewood, with which some

pines were intermingled.

“This,” said Evan, “is the pass of Bally-Brough, which was kept in

former times by ten of the clan Donnochie against a hundred of the

Low-Country carles. The graves of the slain are still to be seen in

that little _corri_, or bottom, on the opposite side of the burn; if

your eyes are good, you may see the green specks among the heather.

See, there is an _earn_, which you Southrons call an eagle. You have no

such birds as that in England. He is going to fetch his supper from the

Laird of Bradwardine’s braes, but I’ll send a slug after him.”

He fired his piece accordingly, but missed the superb monarch of the

feathered tribes, who, without noticing the attempt to annoy him,

continued his majestic flight to the southward. A thousand birds of

prey, hawks, kites, carrion-crows, and ravens, disturbed from the

lodgings which they had just taken up for the evening, rose at the

report of the gun, and mingled their hoarse and discordant notes with

the echoes which replied to it, and with the roar of the mountain

cataracts. Evan, a little disconcerted at having missed his mark, when

he meant to have displayed peculiar dexterity, covered his confusion by

whistling part of a pibroch as he reloaded his piece, and proceeded in

silence up the pass.

It issued in a narrow glen, between two mountains, both very lofty and

covered with heath. The brook continued to be their companion, and they

advanced up its mazes, crossing them now and then, on which occasions

Evan Dhu uniformly offered the assistance of his attendants to carry

over Edward; but our hero, who had been always a tolerable pedestrian,

declined the accommodation, and obviously rose in his guide’s opinion,

by showing that he did not fear wetting his feet. Indeed he was

anxious, so far as he could without affectation, to remove the opinion

which Evan seemed to entertain of the effeminacy of the Lowlanders, and

particularly of the English.

Through the gorge of this glen they found access to a black bog, of

tremendous extent, full of large pit-holes, which they traversed with

great difficulty and some danger, by tracks which no one but a

Highlander could have followed. The path itself, or rather the portion

of more solid ground on which the travellers half walked, half waded,

was rough, broken, and in many places quaggy and unsound. Sometimes the

ground was so completely unsafe that it was necessary to spring from

one hillock to another, the space between being incapable of bearing

the human weight. This was an easy matter to the Highlanders, who wore

thin-soled brogues fit for the purpose, and moved with a peculiar

springing step; but Edward began to find the exercise, to which he was

unaccustomed, more fatiguing than he expected. The lingering twilight

served to show them through this Serbonian bog, but deserted them

almost totally at the bottom of a steep and very stony hill, which it

was the travellers’ next toilsome task to ascend. The night, however,

was pleasant, and not dark; and Waverley, calling up mental energy to

support personal fatigue, held on his march gallantly, though envying

in his heart his Highland attendants, who continued, without a symptom

of abated vigour, the rapid and swinging pace, or rather trot, which,

according to his computation, had already brought them fifteen miles

upon their journey.

After crossing this mountain and descending on the other side towards a

thick wood, Evan Dhu held some conference with his Highland attendants,

in consequence of which Edward’s baggage was shifted from the shoulders

of the gamekeeper to those of one of the gillies, and the former was

sent off with the other mountaineer in a direction different from that

of the three remaining travellers. On asking the meaning of this

separation, Waverley was told that the Lowlander must go to a hamlet

about three miles off for the night; for unless it was some very

particular friend, Donald Bean Lean, the worthy person whom they

supposed to be possessed of the cattle, did not much approve of

strangers approaching his retreat. This seemed reasonable, and silenced

a qualm of suspicion which came across Edward’s mind when he saw

himself, at such a place and such an hour, deprived of his only Lowland

companion. And Evan immediately afterwards added, “that indeed he

himself had better get forward, and announce their approach to Donald

Bean Lean, as the arrival of a _sidier roy_ (red soldier) might

otherwise be a disagreeable surprise.” And without waiting for an

answer, in jockey phrase, he trotted out, and putting himself to a very

round pace, was out of sight in an instant.

Waverley was now left to his own meditations, for his attendant with

the battle-axe spoke very little English. They were traversing a thick,

and, as it seemed, an endless wood of pines, and consequently the path

was altogether indiscernible in the murky darkness which surrounded

them. The Highlander, however, seemed to trace it by instinct, without

the hesitation of a moment, and Edward followed his footsteps as close

as he could.

After journeying a considerable time in silence, he could not help

asking, “Was it far to the end of their journey?”

“Ta cove was tree, four mile; but as _duinhé-wassel_ was a wee taiglit,

Donald could, tat is, might—would—should send ta _curragh_.”

This conveyed no information. The _curragh_ which was promised might be

a man, a horse, a cart, or chaise; and no more could be got from the

man with the battle-axe but a repetition of “Aich ay! ta _curragh_.”

But in a short time Edward began to conceive his meaning, when, issuing

from the wood, he found himself on the banks of a large river or lake,

where his conductor gave him to understand they must sit down for a

little while. The moon, which now began to rise, showed obscurely the

expanse of water which spread before them, and the shapeless and

indistinct forms of mountains with which it seemed to be surrounded.

The cool and yet mild air of the summer night refreshed Waverley after

his rapid and toilsome walk; and the perfume which it wafted from the

birch trees,[*] bathed in the evening dew, was exquisitely fragrant.

[* It is not the weeping birch, the most common species in the

Highlands, but the woolly-leaved Lowland birch, that is distinguished

by this fragrance.]

He had now time to give himself up to the full romance of his

situation. Here he sate on the banks of an unknown lake, under the

guidance of a wild native, whose language was unknown to him, on a

visit to the den of some renowned outlaw, a second Robin Hood, perhaps,

or Adam o’ Gordon, and that at deep midnight, through scenes of

difficulty and toil, separated from his attendant, left by his guide.

What a variety of incidents for the exercise of a romantic imagination,

and all enhanced by the solemn feeling of uncertainty at least, if not

of danger! The only circumstance which assorted ill with the rest was

the cause of his journey—the Baron’s milk-cows! this degrading incident

he kept in the background.

While wrapt in these dreams of imagination, his companion gently

touched him, and, pointing in a direction nearly straight across the

lake, said, “Yon’s ta cove.” A small point of light was seen to twinkle

in the direction in which he pointed, and, gradually increasing in size

and lustre, seemed to flicker like a meteor upon the verge of the

horizon. While Edward watched this phenomenon, the distant dash of oars

was heard. The measured sound approached near and more near, and

presently a loud whistle was heard in the same direction. His friend

with the battle-axe immediately whistled clear and shrill, in reply to

the signal, and a boat, manned with four or five Highlanders, pushed

for a little inlet, near which Edward was sitting. He advanced to meet

them with his attendant, was immediately assisted into the boat by the

officious attention of two stout mountaineers, and had no sooner seated

himself than they resumed their oars, and began to row across the lake

with great rapidity.