Chương Chương 39 · THE JOURNEY IS CONTINUED

. THE JOURNEY IS CONTINUED

Before Waverley awakened from his repose, the day was far advanced, and

he began to feel that he had passed many hours without food. This was

soon supplied in form of a copious breakfast, but Colonel Stewart, as

if wishing to avoid the queries of his guest, did not again present

himself. His compliments were, however, delivered by a servant, with an

offer to provide anything in his power that could be useful to Captain

Waverley on his journey, which he intimated would be continued that

evening. To Waverley’s further inquiries, the servant opposed the

impenetrable barrier of real or affected ignorance and stupidity. He

removed the table and provisions, and Waverley was again consigned to

his own meditations.

As he contemplated the strangeness of his fortune, which seemed to

delight in placing him at the disposal of others, without the power of

directing his own motions, Edward’s eye suddenly rested upon his

portmanteau, which had been deposited in his apartment during his

sleep. The mysterious appearance of Alice in the cottage of the glen

immediately rushed upon his mind, and he was about to secure and

examine the packet which she had deposited among his clothes, when the

servant of Colonel Stewart again made his appearance, and took up the

portmanteau upon his shoulders.

“May I not take out a change of linen, my friend?”

“Your honour sall get ane o’ the Colonel’s ain ruffled sarks, but this

maun gang in the baggage-cart.”

And so saying, he very coolly carried off the portmanteau, without

waiting further remonstrance, leaving our hero in a state where

disappointment and indignation struggled for the mastery. In a few

minutes he heard a cart rumble out of the rugged court-yard, and made

no doubt that he was now dispossessed, for a space at least, if not for

ever, of the only documents which seemed to promise some light upon the

dubious events which had of late influenced his destiny. With such

melancholy thoughts he had to beguile about four or five hours of

solitude.

When this space was elapsed, the trampling of horse was heard in the

court-yard, and Colonel Stewart soon after made his appearance to

request his guest to take some further refreshment before his

departure. The offer was accepted, for a late breakfast had by no means

left our hero incapable of doing honour to dinner, which was now

presented. The conversation of his host was that of a plain country

gentleman, mixed with some soldier-like sentiments and expressions. He

cautiously avoided any reference to the military operations or civil

politics of the time; and to Waverley’s direct inquiries concerning

some of these points replied, that he was not at liberty to speak upon

such topics.

When dinner was finished the governor arose, and, wishing Edward a good

journey, said that, having been informed by Waverley’s servant that his

baggage had been sent forward, he had taken the freedom to supply him

with such changes of linen as he might find necessary till he was again

possessed of his own. With this compliment he disappeared. A servant

acquainted Waverley an instant afterwards that his horse was ready.

Upon this hint he descended into the court-yard, and found a trooper

holding a saddled horse, on which he mounted and sallied from the

portal of Doune Castle, attended by about a score of armed men on

horseback. These had less the appearance of regular soldiers than of

individuals who had suddenly assumed arms from some pressing motive of

unexpected emergency. Their uniform, which was blue and red, an

affected imitation of that of French chasseurs, was in many respects

incomplete, and set awkwardly upon those who wore it. Waverley’s eye,

accustomed to look at a well-disciplined regiment, could easily

discover that the motions and habits of his escort were not those of

trained soldiers, and that, although expert enough in the management of

their horses, their skill was that of huntsmen or grooms rather than of

troopers. The horses were not trained to the regular pace so necessary

to execute simultaneous and combined movements and formations; nor did

they seem bitted (as it is technically expressed) for the use of the

sword. The men, however, were stout, hardy-looking fellows, and might

be individually formidable as irregular cavalry. The commander of this

small party was mounted upon an excellent hunter, and, although dressed

in uniform, his change of apparel did not prevent Waverley from

recognising his old acquaintance, Mr. Falconer of Balmawhapple.

Now, although the terms upon which Edward had parted with this

gentleman were none of the most friendly, he would have sacrificed

every recollection of their foolish quarrel for the pleasure of

enjoying once more the social intercourse of question and answer, from

which he had been so long secluded. But apparently the remembrance of

his defeat by the Baron of Bradwardine, of which Edward had been the

unwilling cause, still rankled in the mind of the low-bred and yet

proud laird. He carefully avoided giving the least sign of recognition,

riding doggedly at the head of his men, who, though scarce equal in

numbers to a sergeant’s party, were denominated Captain Falconer’s

troop, being preceded by a trumpet, which sounded from time to time,

and a standard, borne by Cornet Falconer, the laird’s younger brother.

The lieutenant, an elderly man, had much the air of a low sportsman and

boon companion; an expression of dry humour predominated in his

countenance over features of a vulgar cast, which indicated habitual

intemperance. His cocked hat was set knowingly upon one side of his

head, and while he whistled the “Bob of Dumblain,” under the influence

of half a mutchkin of brandy, he seemed to trot merrily forward, with a

happy indifference to the state of the country, the conduct of the

party, the end of the journey, and all other sublunary matters

whatever.

From this wight, who now and then dropped alongside of his horse,

Waverley hoped to acquire some information, or at least to beguile the

way with talk.

“A fine evening, sir,” was Edward’s salutation.

“Ow, ay, sir! a bra’ night,” replied the lieutenant, in broad Scotch of

the most vulgar description.

“And a fine harvest, apparently,” continued Waverley, following up his

first attack.

“Ay, the aits will be got bravely in; but the farmers, deil burst them,

and the corn-mongers will make the auld price gude against them as has

horses till keep.”

“You perhaps act as quartermaster, sir?”

“Ay, quartermaster, riding-master, and lieutenant,” answered this

officer of all work. “And, to be sure, wha’s fitter to look after the

breaking and the keeping of the poor beasts than mysell, that bought

and sold every ane o’ them?”

“And pray, sir, if it be not too great a freedom, may I beg to know

where we are going just now?”

“A fule’s errand, I fear,” answered this communicative personage.

“In that case,” said Waverley, determined not to spare civility, “I

should have thought a person of your appearance would not have been

found on the road.”

“Vera true, vera true, sir,” replied the officer, “but every why has

its wherefore. Ye maun ken, the laird there bought a’ thir beasts frae

me to munt his troop, and agreed to pay for them according to the

necessities and prices of the time. But then he hadna the ready penny,

and I hae been advised his bond will not be worth a boddle against the

estate, and then I had a’ my dealers to settle wi’ at Martinmas; and

so, as he very kindly offered me this commission, and as the auld

_Fifteen_[*] wad never help me to my siller for sending out naigs

against the government, why, conscience! sir, I thought my best chance

for payment was e’en to _gae out_[28] mysell; and ye may judge, sir, as

I hae dealt a’ my life in halters, I think na mickle o’ putting my

craig in peril of a Saint John-stone’s tippet.”

[* The Judges of the Supreme Court of Session in Scotland are

proverbially termed among the country people, The Fifteen.]

“You are not, then, by profession a soldier?” said Waverley.

“Na, na; thank God,” answered this doughty partizan, “I wasna bred at

sae short a tether, I was brought up to hack and manger. I was bred a

horse-couper, sir; and if I might live to see you at Whitson-tryst, or

at Stagshawbank, or the winter fair at Hawick, and ye wanted a spanker

that would lead the field, I’se be caution I would serve ye easy; for

Jamie Jinker was ne’er the lad to impose upon a gentleman. Ye’re a

gentleman, sir, and should ken a horse’s points; ye see that

through-ganging thing that Balmawhapple’s on; I selled her till him.

She was bred out of Lick-the-ladle, that wan the king’s plate at

Caverton-Edge, by Duke Hamilton’s White-Foot,” etc., etc., etc.

But as Jinker was entered full sail upon the pedigree of Balmawhapple’s

mare, having already got as far as great-grandsire and great-grand-dam,

and while Waverley was watching for an opportunity to obtain from him

intelligence of more interest, the noble captain checked his horse

until they came up, and then, without directly appearing to notice

Edward, said sternly to the genealogist, “I thought, lieutenant, my

orders were preceese, that no one should speak to the prisoner?”

The metamorphosed horse-dealer was silenced of course, and slunk to the

rear, where he consoled himself by entering into a vehement dispute

upon the price of hay with a farmer who had reluctantly followed his

laird to the field rather than give up his farm, whereof the lease had

just expired. Waverley was therefore once more consigned to silence,

foreseeing that further attempts at conversation with any of the party

would only give Balmawhapple a wished-for opportunity to display the

insolence of authority, and the sulky spite of a temper naturally

dogged, and rendered more so by habits of low indulgence and the

incense of servile adulation.

In about two hours’ time the party were near the Castle of Stirling,

over whose battlements the union flag was brightened as it waved in the

evening sun. To shorten his journey, or perhaps to display his

importance and insult the English garrison, Balmawhapple, inclining to

the right, took his route through the royal park, which reaches to and

surrounds the rock upon which the fortress is situated.

[Illustration]

With a mind more at ease Waverley could not have failed to admire the

mixture of romance and beauty which renders interesting the scene

through which he was now passing—the field which had been the scene of

the tournaments of old—the rock from which the ladies beheld the

contest, while each made vows for the success of some favourite

knight—the towers of the Gothic church, where these vows might be

paid—and, surmounting all, the fortress itself, at once a castle and

palace, where valour received the prize from royalty, and knights and

dames closed the evening amid the revelry of the dance, the song, and

the feast. All these were objects fitted to arouse and interest a

romantic imagination.

But Waverley had other objects of meditation, and an incident soon

occurred of a nature to disturb meditation of any kind. Balmawhapple,

in the pride of his heart, as he wheeled his little body of cavalry

round the base of the Castle, commanded his trumpet to sound a flourish

and his standard to be displayed. This insult produced apparently some

sensation; for when the cavalcade was at such distance from the

southern battery as to admit of a gun being depressed so as to bear

upon them, a flash of fire issued from one of the embrazures upon the

rock; and ere the report with which it was attended could be heard, the

rushing sound of a cannon-ball passed over Balmawhapple’s head, and the

bullet, burying itself in the ground at a few yards’ distance, covered

him with the earth which it drove up. There was no need to bid the

party trudge. In fact, every man, acting upon the impulse of the

moment, soon brought Mr. Jinker’s steeds to show their mettle, and the

cavaliers, retreating with more speed than regularity, never took to a

trot, as the lieutenant afterwards observed, until an intervening

eminence had secured them from any repetition of so undesirable a

compliment on the part of Stirling Castle. I must do Balmawhapple,

however, the justice to say that he not only kept the rear of his

troop, and laboured to maintain some order among them, but, in the

height of his gallantry, answered the fire of the Castle by discharging

one of his horse-pistols at the battlements; although, the distance

being nearly half a mile, I could never learn that this measure of

retaliation was attended with any particular effect.

The travellers now passed the memorable field of Bannockburn and

reached the Torwood, a place glorious or terrible to the recollections

of the Scottish peasant, as the feats of Wallace or the cruelties of

Wude Willie Grime predominate in his recollection. At Falkirk, a town

formerly famous in Scottish history, and soon to be again distinguished

as the scene of military events of importance, Balmawhapple proposed to

halt and repose for the evening. This was performed with very little

regard to military discipline, his worthy quarter-master being chiefly

solicitous to discover where the best brandy might be come at.

Sentinels were deemed unnecessary, and the only vigils performed were

those of such of the party as could procure liquor. A few resolute men

might easily have cut off the detachment; but of the inhabitants some

were favourable, many indifferent, and the rest overawed. So nothing

memorable occurred in the course of the evening, except that Waverley’s

rest was sorely interrupted by the revellers hallooing forth their

Jacobite songs, without remorse or mitigation of voice.

Early in the morning they were again mounted and on the road to

Edinburgh, though the pallid visages of some of the troop betrayed that

they had spent a night of sleepless debauchery. They halted at

Linlithgow, distinguished by its ancient palace, which Sixty Years

Since was entire and habitable, and whose venerable ruins, _not quite

Sixty Years since_, very narrowly escaped the unworthy fate of being

converted into a barrack for French prisoners. May repose and blessings

attend the ashes of the patriotic statesman who, amongst his last

services to Scotland, interposed to prevent this profanation!

As they approached the metropolis of Scotland, through a champaign and

cultivated country, the sounds of war began to be heard. The distant

yet distinct report of heavy cannon, fired at intervals, apprized

Waverley that the work of destruction was going forward. Even

Balmawhapple seemed moved to take some precautions, by sending an

advanced party in front of his troop, keeping the main body in

tolerable order, and moving steadily forward.

Marching in this manner they speedily reached an eminence, from which

they could view Edinburgh stretching along the ridgy hill which slopes

eastward from the Castle. The latter, being in a state of siege, or

rather of blockade, by the northern insurgents, who had already

occupied the town for two or three days, fired at intervals upon such

parties of Highlanders as exposed themselves, either on the main street

or elsewhere in the vicinity of the fortress. The morning being calm

and fair, the effect of this dropping fire was to invest the Castle in

wreaths of smoke, the edges of which dissipated slowly in the air,

while the central veil was darkened ever and anon by fresh clouds

poured forth from the battlements; the whole giving, by the partial

concealment, an appearance of grandeur and gloom, rendered more

terrific when Waverley reflected on the cause by which it was produced,

and that each explosion might ring some brave man’s knell.

Ere they approached the city the partial cannonade had wholly ceased.

Balmawhapple, however, having in his recollection the unfriendly

greeting which his troop had received from the battery at Stirling, had

apparently no wish to tempt the forbearance of the artillery of the

Castle. He therefore left the direct road, and, sweeping considerably

to the southward so as to keep out of the range of the cannon,

approached the ancient palace of Holyrood without having entered the

walls of the city. He then drew up his men in front of that venerable

pile, and delivered Waverley to the custody of a guard of Highlanders,

whose officer conducted him into the interior of the building.

A long, low, and ill-proportioned gallery, hung with pictures, affirmed

to be the portraits of kings, who, if they ever flourished at all,

lived several hundred years before the invention of painting in oil

colours, served as a sort of guard chamber or vestibule to the

apartments which the adventurous Charles Edward now occupied in the

palace of his ancestors. Officers, both in the Highland and Lowland

garb, passed and repassed in haste, or loitered in the hall as if

waiting for orders. Secretaries were engaged in making out passes,

musters, and returns. All seemed busy, and earnestly intent upon

something of importance; but Waverley was suffered to remain seated in

the recess of a window, unnoticed by any one, in anxious reflection

upon the crisis of his fate, which seemed now rapidly approaching.