Chương Chương 46 · THE EVE OF BATTLE

. THE EVE OF BATTLE

Although the Highlanders marched on very fast, the sun was declining

when they arrived upon the brow of those high grounds which command an

open and extensive plain stretching northward to the sea, on which are

situated, but at a considerable distance from each other, the small

villages of Seaton and Cockenzie, and the larger one of Preston. One of

the low coastroads to Edinburgh passed through this plain, issuing upon

it from the enclosures of Seaton House, and at the town or village of

Preston again entering the denies of an enclosed country. By this way

the English general had chosen to approach the metropolis, both as most

commodious for his cavalry, and being probably of opinion that by doing

so he would meet in front with the Highlanders advancing from Edinburgh

in the opposite direction. In this he was mistaken; for the sound

judgment of the Chevalier, or of those to whose advice he listened,

left the direct passage free, but occupied the strong ground by which

it was overlooked and commanded.

When the Highlanders reached the heights above the plain described,

they were immediately formed in array of battle along the brow of the

hill. Almost at the same instant the van of the English appeared

issuing from among the trees and enclosures of Seaton, with the purpose

of occupying the level plain between the high ground and the sea; the

space which divided the armies being only about half a mile in breadth.

Waverley could plainly see the squadrons of dragoons issue, one after

another, from the defiles, with their videttes in front, and form upon

the plain, with their front opposed to that of the Prince’s army. They

were followed by a train of field-pieces, which, when they reached the

flank of the dragoons, were also brought into line and pointed against

the heights. The march was continued by three or four regiments of

infantry marching in open column, their fixed bayonets showing like

successive hedges of steel, and their arms glancing like lightning, as,

at a signal given, they also at once wheeled up, and were placed in

direct opposition to the Highlanders. A second train of artillery, with

another regiment of horse, closed the long march, and formed on the

left flank of the infantry, the whole line facing southward.

While the English army went through these evolutions, the Highlanders

showed equal promptitude and zeal for battle. As fast as the clans came

upon the ridge which fronted their enemy, they were formed into line,

so that both armies got into complete order of battle at the same

moment. When this was accomplished, the Highlanders set up a tremendous

yell, which was re-echoed by the heights behind them. The regulars, who

were in high spirits, returned a loud shout of defiance, and fired one

or two of their cannon upon an advanced post of the Highlanders. The

latter displayed great earnestness to proceed instantly to the attack,

Evan Dhu urging to Fergus, by way of argument, that “the _sidier roy_

was tottering like an egg upon a staff, and that they had a’ the

vantage of the onset, for even a haggis (God bless her!) could charge

down hill.”

But the ground through which the mountaineers must have descended,

although not of great extent, was impracticable in its character, being

not only marshy but intersected with walls of dry stone, and traversed

in its whole length by a very broad and deep ditch, circumstances which

must have given the musketry of the regulars dreadful advantages before

the mountaineers could have used their swords, on which they were

taught to rely. The authority of the commanders was therefore

interposed to curb the impetuosity of the Highlanders, and only a few

marksmen were sent down the descent to skirmish with the enemy’s

advanced posts and to reconnoitre the ground.

Here, then, was a military spectacle of no ordinary interest or usual

occurrence. The two armies, so different in aspect and discipline, yet

each admirably trained in its own peculiar mode of war, upon whose

conflict the temporary fate at least of Scotland appeared to depend,

now faced each other like two gladiators in the arena, each meditating

upon the mode of attacking their enemy. The leading officers and the

general’s staff of each army could be distinguished in front of their

lines, busied with spy-glasses to watch each other’s motions, and

occupied in despatching the orders and receiving the intelligence

conveyed by the aides-de-camp and orderly men, who gave life to the

scene by galloping along in different directions, as if the fate of the

day depended upon the speed of their horses. The space between the

armies was at times occupied by the partial and irregular contest of

individual sharp-shooters, and a hat or bonnet was occasionally seen to

fall, as a wounded man was borne off by his comrades. These, however,

were but trifling skirmishes, for it suited the views of neither party

to advance in that direction. From the neighbouring hamlets the

peasantry cautiously showed themselves, as if watching the issue of the

expected engagement; and at no great distance in the bay were two

square-rigged vessels, bearing the English flag, whose tops and yards

were crowded with less timid spectators.

When this awful pause had lasted for a short time, Fergus, with another

chieftain, received orders to detach their clans towards the village of

Preston, in order to threaten the right flank of Cope’s army and compel

him to a change of position. To enable him to execute these orders, the

Chief of Glennaquoich occupied the church-yard of Tranent, a commanding

situation, and a convenient place, as Evan Dhu remarked, “for any

gentleman who might have the misfortune to be killed, and chanced to be

curious about Christian burial.” To check or dislodge this party, the

English general detached two guns, escorted by a strong party of

cavalry. They approached so near that Waverley could plainly recognise

the standard of the troop he had formerly commanded, and hear the

trumpets and kettle-drums sound the signal of advance which he had so

often obeyed. He could hear, too, the well-known word given in the

English dialect by the equally well-distinguished voice of the

commanding officer, for whom he had once felt so much respect. It was

at that instant, that, looking around him, he saw the wild dress and

appearance of his Highland associates, heard their whispers in an

uncouth and unknown language, looked upon his own dress, so unlike that

which he had worn from his infancy, and wished to awake from what

seemed at the moment a dream, strange, horrible, and unnatural. “Good

God!” he muttered, “am I then a traitor to my country, a renegade to my

standard, and a foe, as that poor dying wretch expressed himself, to my

native England!”

Ere he could digest or smother the recollection, the tall military form

of his late commander came full in view, for the purpose of

reconnoitring. “I can hit him now,” said Callum, cautiously raising his

fusee over the wall under which he lay couched, at scarce sixty yards’

distance.

Edward felt as if he was about to see a parricide committed in his

presence; for the venerable grey hair and striking countenance of the

veteran recalled the almost paternal respect with which his officers

universally regarded him. But ere he could say “Hold!” an aged

Highlander who lay beside Callum Beg stopped his arm. “Spare your

shot,” said the seer, “his hour is not yet come. But let him beware of

to-morrow; I see his winding-sheet high upon his breast.”

Callum, flint to other considerations, was penetrable to superstition.

He turned pale at the words of the _taishatr_, and recovered his piece.

Colonel Gardiner, unconscious of the danger he had escaped, turned his

horse round and rode slowly back to the front of his regiment.

By this time the regular army had assumed a new line, with one flank

inclined towards the sea and the other resting upon the village of

Preston; and, as similar difficulties occurred in attacking their new

position, Fergus and the rest of the detachment were recalled to their

former post. This alteration created the necessity of a corresponding

change in General Cope’s army, which was again brought into a line

parallel with that of the Highlanders. In these manœuvres on both sides

the daylight was nearly consumed, and both armies prepared to rest upon

their arms for the night in the lines which they respectively occupied.

“There will be nothing done to-night,” said Fergus to his friend

Waverley; “ere we wrap ourselves in our plaids, let us go see what the

Baron is doing in the rear of the line.”

When they approached his post, they found the good old careful officer,

after having sent out his night patrols and posted his sentinels,

engaged in reading the Evening Service of the Episcopal Church to the

remainder of his troop. His voice was loud and sonorous, and though his

spectacles upon his nose, and the appearance of Saunders Saunderson, in

military array, performing the functions of clerk, had something

ludicrous, yet the circumstances of danger in which they stood, the

military costume of the audience, and the appearance of their horses

saddled and picqueted behind them, gave an impressive and solemn effect

to the office of devotion.

“I have confessed to-day, ere you were awake,” whispered Fergus to

Waverley; “yet I am not so strict a Catholic as to refuse to join in

this good man’s prayers.”

Edward assented, and they remained till the Baron had concluded the

service.

As he shut the book, “Now, lads,” said he, “have at them in the morning

with heavy hands and light consciences.” He then kindly greeted

Mac-Ivor and Waverley, who requested to know his opinion of their

situation. “Why, you know Tacitus saith, “In rebus bellicis maxime

dominalur Fortuna,” which is equiponderate with our vernacular adage,

“Luck can maist in the mellee.” But credit me, gentlemen, yon man is

not a deacon o’ his craft. He damps the spirits of the poor lads he

commands by keeping them on the defensive, whilk of itself implies

inferiority or fear. Now will they lie on their arms yonder as anxious

and as ill at ease as a toad under a harrow, while our men will be

quite fresh and blithe for action in the morning. Well, good-night. One

thing troubles me, but if to-morrow goes well off, I will consult you

about it, Glennaquoich.”

“I could almost apply to Mr. Bradwardine the character which Henry

gives of Fluellen,” said Waverley, as his friend and he walked towards

their bivouac:—

‘Though it appears a little out of fashion,

There is much care and valour in this ‘Scotchman.’”

“He has seen much service,” answered Fergus, “and one is sometimes

astonished to find how much nonsense and reason are mingled in his

composition. I wonder what can be troubling his mind; probably

something about Rose. Hark! the English are setting their watch.”

The roll of the drum and shrill accompaniment of the fifes swelled up

the hill—died away—resumed its thunder—and was at length hushed. The

trumpets and kettle-drums of the cavalry were next heard to perform the

beautiful and wild point of war appropriated as a signal for that piece

of nocturnal duty, and then finally sunk upon the wind with a shrill

and mournful cadence.

The friends, who had now reached their post, stood and looked round

them ere they lay down to rest. The western sky twinkled with stars,

but a frost-mist, rising from the ocean, covered the eastern horizon,

and rolled in white wreaths along the plain where the adverse army lay

couched upon their arms. Their advanced posts were pushed as far as the

side of the great ditch at the bottom of the descent, and had kindled

large fires at different intervals, gleaming with obscure and hazy

lustre through the heavy fog which encircled them with a doubtful halo.

The Highlanders, “thick as leaves in Vallombrosa,” lay stretched upon

the ridge of the hill, buried (excepting their sentinels) in the most

profound repose. “How many of these brave fellows will sleep more

soundly before to-morrow night, Fergus!” said Waverley, with an

involuntary sigh.

“You must not think of that,” answered Fergus, whose ideas were

entirely military. “You must only think of your sword, and by whom it

was given. All other reflections are now TOO LATE.”

With the opiate contained in this undeniable remark Edward endeavoured

to lull the tumult of his conflicting feelings. The Chieftain and he,

combining their plaids, made a comfortable and warm couch. Callum,

sitting down at their head (for it was his duty to watch upon the

immediate person of the Chief), began a long mournful song in Gaelic,

to a low and uniform tune, which, like the sound of the wind at a

distance, soon lulled them to sleep.