CHAPTER XXVI
END OF THE FLIGHT: WE PASS THE FORTH
The month, as I have said, was not yet out, but it was already farthrough August, and beautiful warm weather, with every sign of an earlyand great harvest, when I was pronounced able for my journey. Our moneywas now run to so low an ebb that we must think first of all on speed;for if we came not soon to Mr. Rankeillor's, or if when we came there heshould fail to help me, we must surely starve. In Alan's view, besides,the hunt must have now greatly slackened; and the line of the Forth andeven Stirling Bridge, which is the main pass over that river, would bewatched with little interest.
"It's a chief principle in military affairs," said he, "to go whereye are least expected. Forth is our trouble; ye ken the saying, 'Forthbridles the wild Hielandman.' Well, if we seek to creep round aboutthe head of that river and come down by Kippen or Balfron, it's justprecisely there that they'll be looking to lay hands on us. But if westave on straight to the auld Brig of Stirling, I'll lay my sword theylet us pass unchallenged."
The first night, accordingly, we pushed to the house of a Maclaren inStrathire, a friend of Duncan's, where we slept the twenty-first of themonth, and whence we set forth again about the fall of night to makeanother easy stage. The twenty-second we lay in a heather bush on thehillside in Uam Var, within view of a herd of deer, the happiest tenhours of sleep in a fine, breathing sunshine and on bone-dry ground,that I have ever tasted. That night we struck Allan Water, and followedit down; and coming to the edge of the hills saw the whole Carse ofStirling underfoot, as flat as a pancake, with the town and castle on ahill in the midst of it, and the moon shining on the Links of Forth.
"Now," said Alan, "I kenna if ye care, but ye're in your own land again.We passed the Hieland Line in the first hour; and now if we could butpass yon crooked water, we might cast our bonnets in the air."
In Allan Water, near by where it falls into the Forth, we found a littlesandy islet, overgrown with burdock, butterbur and the like low plants,that would just cover us if we lay flat. Here it was we made our camp,within plain view of Stirling Castle, whence we could hear the drumsbeat as some part of the garrison paraded. Shearers worked all day ina field on one side of the river, and we could hear the stones goingon the hooks and the voices and even the words of the men talking. Itbehoved to lie close and keep silent. But the sand of the little islewas sun-warm, the green plants gave us shelter for our heads, we hadfood and drink in plenty; and to crown all, we were within sight ofsafety.
As soon as the shearers quit their work and the dusk began to fall,we waded ashore and struck for the Bridge of Stirling, keeping to thefields and under the field fences.
The bridge is close under the castle hill, an old, high, narrow bridgewith pinnacles along the parapet; and you may conceive with how muchinterest I looked upon it, not only as a place famous in history, but asthe very doors of salvation to Alan and myself. The moon was not yet upwhen we came there; a few lights shone along the front of the fortress,and lower down a few lighted windows in the town; but it was all mightystill, and there seemed to be no guard upon the passage.
I was for pushing straight across; but Alan was more wary.
"It looks unco' quiet," said he; "but for all that we'll lie down herecannily behind a dyke, and make sure."
So we lay for about a quarter of an hour, whiles whispering, whileslying still and hearing nothing earthly but the washing of the water onthe piers. At last there came by an old, hobbling woman with a crutchstick; who first stopped a little, close to where we lay, and bemoanedherself and the long way she had travelled; and then set forth again upthe steep spring of the bridge. The woman was so little, and the nightstill so dark, that we soon lost sight of her; only heard the sound ofher steps, and her stick, and a cough that she had by fits, draw slowlyfarther away.
"She's bound to be across now," I whispered.
"Na," said Alan, "her foot still sounds boss* upon the bridge."
* Hollow.
And just then--"Who goes?" cried a voice, and we heard the butt ofa musket rattle on the stones. I must suppose the sentry had beensleeping, so that had we tried, we might have passed unseen; but he wasawake now, and the chance forfeited.
"This'll never do," said Alan. "This'll never, never do for us, David."
And without another word, he began to crawl away through the fields; anda little after, being well out of eye-shot, got to his feet again, andstruck along a road that led to the eastward. I could not conceive whathe was doing; and indeed I was so sharply cut by the disappointment,that I was little likely to be pleased with anything. A moment backand I had seen myself knocking at Mr. Rankeillor's door to claim myinheritance, like a hero in a ballad; and here was I back again, awandering, hunted blackguard, on the wrong side of Forth.
"Well?" said I.
"Well," said Alan, "what would ye have? They're none such fools as Itook them for. We have still the Forth to pass, Davie--weary fall therains that fed and the hillsides that guided it!"
"And why go east?" said I.
"Ou, just upon the chance!" said he. "If we cannae pass the river, we'llhave to see what we can do for the firth."
"There are fords upon the river, and none upon the firth," said I.
"To be sure there are fords, and a bridge forbye," quoth Alan; "and ofwhat service, when they are watched?"
"Well," said I, "but a river can be swum."
"By them that have the skill of it," returned he; "but I have yet tohear that either you or me is much of a hand at that exercise; and formy own part, I swim like a stone."
"I'm not up to you in talking back, Alan," I said; "but I can see we'remaking bad worse. If it's hard to pass a river, it stands to reason itmust be worse to pass a sea."
"But there's such a thing as a boat," says Alan, "or I'm the moredeceived."
"Ay, and such a thing as money," says I. "But for us that have neitherone nor other, they might just as well not have been invented."
"Ye think so?" said Alan.
"I do that," said I.
"David," says he, "ye're a man of small invention and less faith. Butlet me set my wits upon the hone, and if I cannae beg, borrow, nor yetsteal a boat, I'll make one!"
"I think I see ye!" said I. "And what's more than all that: if ye pass abridge, it can tell no tales; but if we pass the firth, there's the boaton the wrong side--somebody must have brought it--the country-side willall be in a bizz---"
"Man!" cried Alan, "if I make a boat, I'll make a body to take it backagain! So deave me with no more of your nonsense, but walk (for that'swhat you've got to do)--and let Alan think for ye."
All night, then, we walked through the north side of the Carse underthe high line of the Ochil mountains; and by Alloa and Clackmannan andCulross, all of which we avoided: and about ten in the morning, mightyhungry and tired, came to the little clachan of Limekilns. This is aplace that sits near in by the water-side, and looks across the Hope tothe town of the Queensferry. Smoke went up from both of these, and fromother villages and farms upon all hands. The fields were being reaped;two ships lay anchored, and boats were coming and going on the Hope.It was altogether a right pleasant sight to me; and I could not takemy fill of gazing at these comfortable, green, cultivated hills and thebusy people both of the field and sea.
For all that, there was Mr. Rankeillor's house on the south shore, whereI had no doubt wealth awaited me; and here was I upon the north, clad inpoor enough attire of an outlandish fashion, with three silver shillingsleft to me of all my fortune, a price set upon my head, and an outlawedman for my sole company.
"O, Alan!" said I, "to think of it! Over there, there's all that heartcould want waiting me; and the birds go over, and the boats go over--allthat please can go, but just me only! O, man, but it's a heart-break!"
In Limekilns we entered a small change-house, which we only knew to be apublic by the wand over the door, and bought some bread and cheese froma good-looking lass that was the servant. This we carried with us in abund
le, meaning to sit and eat it in a bush of wood on the sea-shore,that we saw some third part of a mile in front. As we went, I keptlooking across the water and sighing to myself; and though I took noheed of it, Alan had fallen into a muse. At last he stopped in the way.
"Did ye take heed of the lass we bought this of?" says he, tapping onthe bread and cheese.
"To be sure," said I, "and a bonny lass she was."
"Ye thought that?" cries he. "Man, David, that's good news."
"In the name of all that's wonderful, why so?" says I. "What good canthat do?"
"Well," said Alan, with one of his droll looks, "I was rather in hopesit would maybe get us that boat."
"If it were the other way about, it would be liker it," said I.
"That's all that you ken, ye see," said Alan. "I don't want the lass tofall in love with ye, I want her to be sorry for ye, David; to which endthere is no manner of need that she should take you for a beauty. Let mesee" (looking me curiously over). "I wish ye were a wee thing paler; butapart from that ye'll do fine for my purpose--ye have a fine, hang-dog,rag-and-tatter, clappermaclaw kind of a look to ye, as if ye hadstolen the coat from a potato-bogle. Come; right about, and back to thechange-house for that boat of ours."
I followed him, laughing.
"David Balfour," said he, "ye're a very funny gentleman by your way ofit, and this is a very funny employ for ye, no doubt. For all that, ifye have any affection for my neck (to say nothing of your own) ye willperhaps be kind enough to take this matter responsibly. I am going todo a bit of play-acting, the bottom ground of which is just exactly asserious as the gallows for the pair of us. So bear it, if ye please, inmind, and conduct yourself according."
"Well, well," said I, "have it as you will."
As we got near the clachan, he made me take his arm and hang upon itlike one almost helpless with weariness; and by the time he pushedopen the change-house door, he seemed to be half carrying me. The maidappeared surprised (as well she might be) at our speedy return; butAlan had no words to spare for her in explanation, helped me to a chair,called for a tass of brandy with which he fed me in little sips,and then breaking up the bread and cheese helped me to eat it likea nursery-lass; the whole with that grave, concerned, affectionatecountenance, that might have imposed upon a judge. It was small wonderif the maid were taken with the picture we presented, of a poor, sick,overwrought lad and his most tender comrade. She drew quite near, andstood leaning with her back on the next table.
"What's like wrong with him?" said she at last.
Alan turned upon her, to my great wonder, with a kind of fury. "Wrong?"cries he. "He's walked more hundreds of miles than he has hairs upon hischin, and slept oftener in wet heather than dry sheets. Wrong, quo' she!Wrong enough, I would think! Wrong, indeed!" and he kept grumbling tohimself as he fed me, like a man ill-pleased.
"He's young for the like of that," said the maid.
"Ower young," said Alan, with his back to her.
"He would be better riding," says she.
"And where could I get a horse to him?" cried Alan, turning on her withthe same appearance of fury. "Would ye have me steal?"
I thought this roughness would have sent her off in dudgeon, as indeedit closed her mouth for the time. But my companion knew very well whathe was doing; and for as simple as he was in some things of life, had agreat fund of roguishness in such affairs as these.
"Ye neednae tell me," she said at last--"ye're gentry."
"Well," said Alan, softened a little (I believe against his will) bythis artless comment, "and suppose we were? Did ever you hear thatgentrice put money in folk's pockets?"
She sighed at this, as if she were herself some disinherited great lady."No," says she, "that's true indeed."
I was all this while chafing at the part I played, and sittingtongue-tied between shame and merriment; but somehow at this I couldhold in no longer, and bade Alan let me be, for I was better already. Myvoice stuck in my throat, for I ever hated to take part in lies; but myvery embarrassment helped on the plot, for the lass no doubt set down myhusky voice to sickness and fatigue.
"Has he nae friends?" said she, in a tearful voice.
"That has he so!" cried Alan, "if we could but win to them!--friends andrich friends, beds to lie in, food to eat, doctors to see to him--andhere he must tramp in the dubs and sleep in the heather like abeggarman."
"And why that?" says the lass.
"My dear," said Alan, "I cannae very safely say; but I'll tell ye whatI'll do instead," says he, "I'll whistle ye a bit tune." And with thathe leaned pretty far over the table, and in a mere breath of a whistle,but with a wonderful pretty sentiment, gave her a few bars of "Charlieis my darling."
"Wheesht," says she, and looked over her shoulder to the door.
"That's it," said Alan.
"And him so young!" cries the lass.
"He's old enough to----" and Alan struck his forefinger on the back partof his neck, meaning that I was old enough to lose my head.
"It would be a black shame," she cried, flushing high.
"It's what will be, though," said Alan, "unless we manage the better."
At this the lass turned and ran out of that part of the house, leavingus alone together. Alan in high good humour at the furthering of hisschemes, and I in bitter dudgeon at being called a Jacobite and treatedlike a child.
"Alan," I cried, "I can stand no more of this."
"Ye'll have to sit it then, Davie," said he. "For if ye upset the potnow, ye may scrape your own life out of the fire, but Alan Breck is adead man."
This was so true that I could only groan; and even my groan servedAlan's purpose, for it was overheard by the lass as she came flying inagain with a dish of white puddings and a bottle of strong ale.
"Poor lamb!" says she, and had no sooner set the meat before us, thanshe touched me on the shoulder with a little friendly touch, as much asto bid me cheer up. Then she told us to fall to, and there would be nomore to pay; for the inn was her own, or at least her father's, and hewas gone for the day to Pittencrieff. We waited for no second bidding,for bread and cheese is but cold comfort and the puddings smeltexcellently well; and while we sat and ate, she took up that same placeby the next table, looking on, and thinking, and frowning to herself,and drawing the string of her apron through her hand.
"I'm thinking ye have rather a long tongue," she said at last to Alan.
"Ay" said Alan; "but ye see I ken the folk I speak to."
"I would never betray ye," said she, "if ye mean that."
"No," said he, "ye're not that kind. But I'll tell ye what ye would do,ye would help."
"I couldnae," said she, shaking her head. "Na, I couldnae."
"No," said he, "but if ye could?"
She answered him nothing.
"Look here, my lass," said Alan, "there are boats in the Kingdom ofFife, for I saw two (no less) upon the beach, as I came in by yourtown's end. Now if we could have the use of a boat to pass under cloudof night into Lothian, and some secret, decent kind of a man to bringthat boat back again and keep his counsel, there would be two soulssaved--mine to all likelihood--his to a dead surety. If we lack thatboat, we have but three shillings left in this wide world; and whereto go, and how to do, and what other place there is for us except thechains of a gibbet--I give you my naked word, I kenna! Shall we gowanting, lassie? Are ye to lie in your warm bed and think upon us, whenthe wind gowls in the chimney and the rain tirls on the roof? Are ye toeat your meat by the cheeks of a red fire, and think upon this poor sicklad of mine, biting his finger ends on a blae muir for cauld and hunger?Sick or sound, he must aye be moving; with the death grapple at histhroat he must aye be trailing in the rain on the lang roads; and whenhe gants his last on a rickle of cauld stanes, there will be nae friendsnear him but only me and God."
At this appeal, I could see the lass was in great trouble of mind,being tempted to help us, and yet in some fear she might be helpingmalefactors; and so now I determined to step in myself and to all
ay herscruples with a portion of the truth.
"Did ever you hear," said I, "of Mr. Rankeillor of the Ferry?"
"Rankeillor the writer?" said she. "I daur say that!"
"Well," said I, "it's to his door that I am bound, so you may judge bythat if I am an ill-doer; and I will tell you more, that though I amindeed, by a dreadful error, in some peril of my life, King George hasno truer friend in all Scotland than myself."
Her face cleared up mightily at this, although Alan's darkened.
"That's more than I would ask," said she. "Mr. Rankeillor is a kenntman." And she bade us finish our meat, get clear of the clachan as soonas might be, and lie close in the bit wood on the sea-beach. "And ye cantrust me," says she, "I'll find some means to put you over."
At this we waited for no more, but shook hands with her upon thebargain, made short work of the puddings, and set forth again fromLimekilns as far as to the wood. It was a small piece of perhaps a scoreof elders and hawthorns and a few young ashes, not thick enough to veilus from passersby upon the road or beach. Here we must lie, however,making the best of the brave warm weather and the good hopes we now hadof a deliverance, and planing more particularly what remained for us todo.
We had but one trouble all day; when a strolling piper came and sat inthe same wood with us; a red-nosed, bleareyed, drunken dog, with a greatbottle of whisky in his pocket, and a long story of wrongs that had beendone him by all sorts of persons, from the Lord President of theCourt of Session, who had denied him justice, down to the Bailies ofInverkeithing who had given him more of it than he desired. It wasimpossible but he should conceive some suspicion of two men lying allday concealed in a thicket and having no business to allege. As long ashe stayed there he kept us in hot water with prying questions; and afterhe was gone, as he was a man not very likely to hold his tongue, we werein the greater impatience to be gone ourselves.
The day came to an end with the same brightness; the night fell quietand clear; lights came out in houses and hamlets and then, one afteranother, began to be put out; but it was past eleven, and we were longsince strangely tortured with anxieties, before we heard the grindingof oars upon the rowing-pins. At that, we looked out and saw the lassherself coming rowing to us in a boat. She had trusted no one with ouraffairs, not even her sweetheart, if she had one; but as soon as herfather was asleep, had left the house by a window, stolen a neighbour'sboat, and come to our assistance single-handed.
I was abashed how to find expression for my thanks; but she was no lessabashed at the thought of hearing them; begged us to lose no time and tohold our peace, saying (very properly) that the heart of our matter wasin haste and silence; and so, what with one thing and another, she hadset us on the Lothian shore not far from Carriden, had shaken hands withus, and was out again at sea and rowing for Limekilns, before there wasone word said either of her service or our gratitude.
Even after she was gone, we had nothing to say, as indeed nothing wasenough for such a kindness. Only Alan stood a great while upon the shoreshaking his head.
"It is a very fine lass," he said at last. "David, it is a very finelass." And a matter of an hour later, as we were lying in a den onthe sea-shore and I had been already dozing, he broke out again incommendations of her character. For my part, I could say nothing, shewas so simple a creature that my heart smote me both with remorse andfear: remorse because we had traded upon her ignorance; and fear lest weshould have anyway involved her in the dangers of our situation.
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