CHAPTER XII
I HEAR OF THE "RED FOX"
Before we had done cleaning out the round-house a breeze sprang up froma little to the east of north. This blew off the rain and brought outthe sun.
And here I must explain; and the reader would do well to look at a map.On the day when the fog fell and we ran down Alan's boat, we had beenrunning through the Little Minch. At dawn after the battle, we laybecalmed to the west of the Isle of Canna, or between that and IsleEriska in the chain of the Long Island. Now to get from there to theLinnhe Loch, the straight course was through the narrows of the Sound ofMull. But the captain had no chart; he was afraid to trust his brig sodeep among the islands; and, the wind serving well, he preferred to goby west of Tiree and come up under the southern coast of the great Isleof Mull.
All day the breeze held in the same point, and rather freshened thandied down; and towards afternoon a swell began to set in from round theouter Hebrides. Our course, to go round about the inner isles, was tothe west of south, so that at first we had this swell upon our beam, andwere much rolled about. But after nightfall, when we had turned the endof Tiree and began to head more to the east, the sea came right astern.
Meanwhile, the early part of the day, before the swell came up, was verypleasant; sailing, as we were, in a bright sunshine and with manymountainous islands upon different sides. Alan and I sat in theround-house with the doors open on each side (the wind being straightastern), and smoked a pipe or two of the captain's fine tobacco. It wasat this time we heard each other's stories, which was the moreimportant to me, as I gained some knowledge of that wild Highlandcountry on which I was so soon to land. In those days, so close on theback of the great rebellion, it was needful a man should know what hewas doing when he went upon the heather.
It was I that showed the example, telling him all my misfortune; whichhe heard with great good-nature. Only, when I came to mention that goodfriend of mine, Mr. Campbell the minister, Alan fired up and cried outthat he hated all that were of that name.
"Why," said I, "he is a man you should be proud to give your hand to."
"I know nothing I would help a Campbell to," says he, "unless it was aleaden bullet. I would hunt all of that name like blackcocks. If I laydying I would crawl upon my knees to my chamber window for a shot atone."
"Why, Alan," I cried, "what ails ye at the Campbells?"
"Well," says he, "ye ken very well that I am an Appin Stewart, and theCampbells have long harried and wasted those of my name; ay, and gotlands of us by treachery--but never with the sword," he cried loudly,and with the word brought down his fist upon the table. But I paid theless attention to this, for I knew it was usually said by those who havethe underhand. "There's more than that," he continued, "and all in thesame story: lying words, lying papers, tricks fit for a peddler, and theshow of what's legal over all, to make a man the more angry."
"You that are so wasteful of your buttons," said I, "I can hardly thinkyou would be a good judge of business."
"Ah!" says he, falling again to smiling, "I got my wastefulness from thesame man I got the buttons from; and that was my poor father, DuncanStewart, grace be to him! He was the prettiest man of his kindred; andthe best swordsman in the Hielands, David, and that is the same as tosay, in all the world, I should ken, for it was him that taught me. Hewas in the Black Watch, when first it was mustered; and, like othergentleman privates, had a gillie at his back to carry his firelock forhim on the march. Well, the King, it appears, was wishful to see Hielandswordsmanship; and my father and three more were chosen out and sent toLondon town, to let him see it at the best. So they were had into thepalace and showed the whole art of the sword for two hours at a stretch,before King George and Queen Carline, and the Butcher Cumberland, andmany more of whom I havena mind. And when they were through, the King(for all he was a rank usurper) spoke them fair, and gave each man threeguineas in his hand. Now, as they were going out of the palace they hada porter's lodge to go by; and it came in on my father, as he wasperhaps the first private Hieland gentleman that had ever gone by thatdoor, it was right he should give the poor porter a proper notion oftheir quality. So he gives the King's three guineas into the man's hand,as if it was his common custom; the three others that came behind himdid the same; and there they were on the street, never a penny thebetter for their pains. Some say it was one that was the first to feethe King's porter; and some say it was another; but the truth of it isthat it was Duncan Stewart, as I am willing to prove with either swordor pistol. And that was the father that I had, God rest him!"
"I think he was not the man to leave you rich," said I.
"And that's true," said Alan. "He left me my breeks to cover me, andlittle besides. And that was how I came to enlist, which was a blackspot upon my character at the best of times, and would still be a sorejob for me if I fell among the red-coats."
"What," cried I, "were you in the English army?"
"That was I," said Alan. "But I deserted to the right side atPrestonpans--and that's some comfort."
I could scarcely share this view: holding desertion under arms for anunpardonable fault in honour. But for all I was so young, I was wiserthan say my thought. "Dear, dear," says I, "the punishment is death."
"Ay," said he, "if they got hands on me it would be a short shrift and alang tow for Alan! But I have the King of France's commission in mypocket, which would aye be some protection."
"I misdoubt it much," said I.
"I have doubts mysel'," said Alan drily.
"And, good heaven, man," cried I, "you that are a condemned rebel, and adeserter, and a man of the French King's--what tempts ye back into thiscountry? It's a braving of Providence."
"Tut!" says Alan, "I have been back every year since forty-six!"
"And what brings ye, man?" cried I.
"Well, ye see, I weary for my friends and country," said he. "France isa braw place, nae doubt; but I weary for the heather and the deer. Andthen I have bit things that I attend to. Whiles I pick up a few lads toserve the King of France: recruits, ye see; and that's aye a littlemoney. But the heart of the matter is the business of my chief,Ardshiel."
"I thought they called your chief Appin," said I.
"Ay, but Ardshiel is the captain of the clan," said he, which scarcelycleared my mind. "Ye see, David, he that was all his life so great aman, and come of the blood and bearing the name of kings, is now broughtdown to live in a French town like a poor and private person. He thathad four hundred swords at his whistle, I have seen, with these eyes ofmine, buying butter in the market-place, and taking it home in akale-leaf. This is not only a pain but a disgrace to us of his familyand clan. There are the bairns forbye, the children and the hope ofAppin, that must be learned their letters and how to hold a sword, inthat far country. Now, the tenants of Appin have to pay a rent to KingGeorge; but their hearts are staunch, they are true to their chief; andwhat with love and a bit of pressure, and maybe a threat or two, thepoor folk scrape up a second rent for Ardshiel. Well, David, I'm thehand that carries it." And he struck the belt about his body, so thatthe guineas rang.
"Do they pay both?" cried I.
"Ay, David, both," says he.
"What! two rents?" I repeated.
"Ay, David," says he. "I told a different tale to yon captain man; butthis is the truth of it. And it's wonderful to me how little pressure isneeded. But that's the handiwork of my good kinsman and my father'sfriend, James of the Glens; James Stewart that is: Ardshiel'shalf-brother. He it is that gets the money in, and does the management."
This was the first time I heard the name of that James Stewart, who wasafterwards so famous at the time of his hanging. But I took little heedat the moment, for all my mind was occupied with the generosity of thesepoor Highlanders.
"I call it noble," I cried. "I'm a Whig, or little better; but I call itnoble."
"Ay," said he, "ye're a Whig, but ye're a gentleman; and that's whatdoes it. Now, if ye were one of the cursed race of Campbell, ye wouldgnash you
r teeth to hear tell of it. If ye were the Red Fox".... And atthat name his teeth shut together, and he ceased speaking. I have seenmany a grim face, but never a grimmer than Alan's when he had named theRed Fox.
"And who is the Red Fox?" I asked, daunted, but still curious.
"Who is he?" cried Alan. "Well, and I'll tell you that. When the men ofthe clans were broken at Culloden, and the good cause went down, and thehorses rode over the fetlocks in the best blood of the north, Ardshielhad to flee like a poor deer upon the mountains--he and his lady and hisbairns. A sair job we had of it before we got him shipped; and while hestill lay in the heather, the English rogues, that couldna come at hislife, were striking at his rights. They stripped him of his powers; theystripped him of his lands; they plucked the weapons from the hands ofhis clansmen, that had borne arms for thirty centuries; ay, and thevery clothes off their backs--so that it's now a sin to wear a tartanplaid, and a man may be cast into a gaol if he has but a kilt about hislegs. One thing they couldna kill. That was the love the clansmen boretheir chief. These guineas are the proof of it. And now, in there stepsa man, a Campbell, red-headed Colin of Glenure----"
"Is that him you call the Red Fox?" said I.
"Will ye bring me his brush?" cries Alan fiercely. "Ay, that's the man.In he steps, and gets papers from King George, to be so-called King'sfactor on the lands of Appin. And at first he sings small, and ishail-fellow-well-met with Sheamus--that's James of the Glens, mychieftain's agent. But by-and-by, that came to his ears that I have justtold you; how the poor commons of Appin, the farmers and the croftersand the boumen, were wringing their very plaids to get a second rent,and send it over-seas for Ardshiel and his poor bairns. What was it yecalled it, when I told ye?"
"I called it noble, Alan," said I.
"And you little better than a common Whig!" cries Alan. "But when itcame to Colin Roy, the black Campbell blood in him ran wild. He satgnashing his teeth at the wine-table. What! should a Stewart get a biteof bread, and him not be able to prevent it? Ah! Red Fox, if ever I holdyou at a gun's end, the Lord have pity upon ye!" (Alan stopped toswallow down his anger.) "Well, David, what does he do? He declares allthe farms to let. And, thinks he, in his black heart, 'I'll soon getother tenants that'll overbid these Stewarts, and Maccolls, and Macrobs'(for these are all names in my clan, David), 'and then,' thinks he,'Ardshiel will have to hold his bonnet on a French roadside.'"
"Well," said I, "what followed?"
Alan laid down his pipe, which he had long since suffered to go out, andset his two hands upon his knees.
"Ay," said he, "ye'll never guess that! For these same Stewarts, andMaccolls, and Macrobs (that had two rents to pay, one to King George bystark force, and one to Ardshiel by natural kindness) offered him abetter price than any Campbell in all broad Scotland; and far he sentseeking them--as far as to the sides of Clyde and the cross ofEdinburgh--seeking, and fleeching, and begging them to come, where therewas a Stewart to be starved and a red-headed hound of a Campbell to bepleasured!"
"Well, Alan," said I, "that is a strange story, and a fine one too. AndWhig as I may be, I am glad the man was beaten."
"Him beaten?" echoed Alan. "It's little ye ken of Campbells, and less ofthe Red Fox. Him beaten? No: nor will be, till his blood's on thehillside! But if the day comes, David man, that I can find time andleisure for a bit of hunting, there grows not enough heather in allScotland to hide him from my vengeance!"
"Man Alan," said I, "ye are neither very wise nor very Christian to blowoff so many words of anger. They will do the man ye call the Fox noharm, and yourself no good. Tell me your tale plainly out. What did henext?"
"And that's a good observe, David," said Alan. "Troth and indeed, theywill do him no harm; the more's the pity! And barring that aboutChristianity (of which my opinion is quite otherwise, or I would be naeChristian), I am much of your mind."
"Opinion here or opinion there," said I, "it's a kennt thing thatChristianity forbids revenge."
"Ay," said he, "it's well seen it was a Campbell taught ye! It would bea convenient world for them and their sort, if there was no such a thingas a lad and a gun behind a heather bush! But that's nothing to thepoint. This is what he did."
"Ay," said I, "come to that."
"Well, David," said he, "since he couldna be rid of the loyal commons byfair means, he swore he would be rid of them by foul. Ardshiel was tostarve: that was the thing he aimed at. And since them that fed him inhis exile wouldna be bought out--right or wrong, he would drive themout. Therefore he sent for lawyers, and papers, and red-coats to standat his back. And the kindly folk of that country must all pack andtramp, every father's son out of his father's house, and out of theplace where he was bred and fed, and played when he was a callant. Andwho are to succeed them? Bare-leggit beggars! King George is to whistlefor his rents; he maun dow with less; he can spread his butter thinner:what cares Red Colin? If he can hurt Ardshiel, he has his wish; if hecan pluck the meat from my chieftain's table, and the bit toys out ofhis children's hands, he will gang hame singing to Glenure!"
"Let me have a word," said I. "Be sure, if they take less rents, be sureGovernment has a finger in the pie. It's not this Campbell's fault,man--it's his orders. And if ye killed this Colin to-morrow, what betterwould ye be? There would be another factor in his shoes, as fast as spurcan drive."
"Ye're a good lad in a fight," said Alan; "but, man! ye have Whig bloodin ye!"
He spoke kindly enough, but there was so much anger under his contemptthat I thought it was wise to change the conversation. I expressed mywonder how, with the Highlands covered with troops, and guarded like acity in a siege, a man in his situation could come and go withoutarrest.
"It's easier than ye would think," said Alan. "A bare hillside (ye see)is like all one road; if there's a sentry at one place, ye just go byanother. And then the heather's a great help. And everywhere there arefriends' houses and friends' byres and haystacks. And besides, when folktalk of a country covered with troops, it's but a kind of a byword atthe best. A soldier covers nae mair of it than his boot-soles. I havefished a water with a sentry on the other side of the brae, and killed afine trout; and I have sat in a heather bush within six feet of another,and learned a real bonny tune from his whistling. This was it," saidhe, and whistled me the air.
"And then, besides," he continued, "it's no' sae bad now as it was inforty-six. The Hielands are what they call pacified. Small wonder, withnever a gun or a sword left from Cantyre to Cape Wrath, but whattenty[17] folk have hidden in their thatch! But what I would like token, David, is just how long? Not long, ye would think, with men likeArdshiel in exile and men like the Red Fox sitting birling the wine andoppressing the poor at home. But it's a kittle thing to decide whatfolk'll bear, and what they will not. Or why would Red Colin be ridinghis horse all over my poor country of Appin, and never a pretty lad toput a bullet in him?"
And with this Alan fell into a muse, and for a long time sate very sadand silent.
I will add the rest of what I have to say about my friend, that he wasskilled in all kinds of music, but principally pipe-music; was awell-considered poet in his own tongue; had read several books both inFrench and English; was a dead shot, a good angler, and an excellentfencer with the small sword as well as with his own particular weapon.For his faults, they were on his face, and I now knew them all. But theworst of them, his childish propensity to take offence and to pickquarrels, he greatly laid aside in my case, out of regard for the battleof the round-house. But whether it was because I had done well myself,or because I had been a witness of his own much greater prowess, is morethan I can tell. For though he had a great taste for courage in othermen, yet he admired it most in Alan Breck.
FOOTNOTE:
[17] Careful.
The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 10 Page 23
