Guy Mannering, Or, the Astrologer — Complete

by Walter Scott

  CHAPTER LIV

  Die, prophet! in thy speech; For this, among the rest, was I ordained.

  Henry VI. Part III.

  The progress of the Borderer, who, as we have said, was the last of theparty, was fearfully arrested by a hand, which caught hold of his legas he dragged his long limbs after him in silence and perturbationthrough the low and narrow entrance of the subterranean passage. Thesteel heart of the bold yeoman had well-nigh given way, and hesuppressed with difficulty a shout, which, in the defenceless postureand situation which they then occupied, might have cost all theirlives. He contented himself, however, with extricating his foot fromthe grasp of this unexpected follower. 'Be still,' said a voice behindhim, releasing him; 'I am a friend--Charles Hazlewood.'

  These words were uttered in a very low voice, but they produced soundenough to startle Meg Merrilies, who led the van, and who, havingalready gained the place where the cavern expanded, had risen upon herfeet. She began, as if to confound any listening ear, to growl, tomutter, and to sing aloud, and at the same time to make a bustle amongsome brushwood which was now heaped in the cave.

  'Here, beldam, deyvil's kind,' growled the harsh voice of DirkHatteraick from the inside of his den, 'what makest thou there?'

  'Laying the roughies to keep the cauld wind frae you, ye desperatedo-nae-good. Ye're e'en ower weel off, and wotsna; it will be otherwisesoon.'

  'Have you brought me the brandy, and any news of my people?' said DirkHatteraick.

  'There's the flask for ye. Your people--dispersed, broken, gone, or cutto ribbands by the redcoats.'

  'Der deyvil! this coast is fatal to me.'

  'Ye may hae mair reason to say sae.'

  While this dialogue went forward, Bertram and Dinmont had both gainedthe interior of the cave and assumed an erect position. The only lightwhich illuminated its rugged and sable precincts was a quantity of woodburnt to charcoal in an iron grate, such as they use in spearing salmonby night. On these red embers Hatteraick from time to time threw ahandful of twigs or splintered wood; but these, even when they blazedup, afforded a light much disproportioned to the extent of the cavern;and, as its principal inhabitant lay upon the side of the grate mostremote from the entrance, it was not easy for him to discoverdistinctly objects which lay in that direction. The intruders,therefore, whose number was now augmented unexpectedly to three, stoodbehind the loosely-piled branches with little risk of discovery.Dinmont had the sense to keep back Hazlewood with one hand till hewhispered to Bertram, 'A friend--young Hazlewood.'

  It was no time for following up the introduction, and they all stood asstill as the rocks around them, obscured behind the pile of brushwood,which had been probably placed there to break the cold wind from thesea, without totally intercepting the supply of air. The branches werelaid so loosely above each other that, looking through them towards thelight of the fire-grate, they could easily discover what passed in itsvicinity, although a much stronger degree of illumination than itafforded would not have enabled the persons placed near the bottom ofthe cave to have descried them in the position which they occupied.

  The scene, independent of the peculiar moral interest and personaldanger which attended it, had, from the effect of the light and shadeon the uncommon objects which it exhibited, an appearance emphaticallydismal. The light in the fire-grate was the dark-red glare of charcoalin a state of ignition, relieved from time to time by a transient flameof a more vivid or duskier light, as the fuel with which DirkHatteraick fed his fire was better or worse fitted for his purpose. Nowa dark cloud of stifling smoke rose up to the roof of the cavern, andthen lighted into a reluctant and sullen blaze, which flashed waveringup the pillar of smoke, and was suddenly rendered brighter and morelively by some drier fuel, or perhaps some splintered fir-timber, whichat once converted the smoke into flame. By such fitful irradiation theycould see, more or less distinctly, the form of Hatteraick, whosesavage and rugged cast of features, now rendered yet more ferocious bythe circumstances of his situation and the deep gloom of his mind,assorted well with the rugged and broken vault, which rose in a rudearch over and around him. The form of Meg Merrilies, which stalkedabout him, sometimes in the light, sometimes partially obscured in thesmoke or darkness, contrasted strongly with the sitting figure ofHatteraick as he bent over the flame, and from his stationary posturewas constantly visible to the spectator, while that of the femaleflitted around, appearing or disappearing like a spectre.

  Bertram felt his blood boil at the sight of Hatteraick. He rememberedhim well under the name of Jansen, which the smuggler had adopted afterthe death of Kennedy; and he remembered also that this Jansen, and hismate Brown, the same who was shot at Woodbourne, had been the brutaltyrants of his infancy. Bertram knew farther, from piecing his ownimperfect recollections with the narratives of Mannering and Pleydell,that this man was the prime agent in the act of violence which tore himfrom his family and country, and had exposed him to so many distressesand dangers. A thousand exasperating reflections rose within his bosom;and he could hardly refrain from rushing upon Hatteraick and blowinghis brains out.

  At the same time this would have been no safe adventure. The flame, asit rose and fell, while it displayed the strong, muscular, andbroad-chested frame of the ruffian, glanced also upon two brace ofpistols in his belt, and upon the hilt of his cutlass: it was not to bedoubted that his desperation was commensurate with his personalstrength and means of resistance. Both, indeed, were inadequate toencounter the combined power of two such men as Bertram himself and hisfriend Dinmont, without reckoning their unexpected assistant Hazlewood,who was unarmed, and of a slighter make; but Bertram felt, on amoment's reflection, that there would be neither sense nor valour inanticipating the hangman's office, and he considered the importance ofmaking Hatteraick prisoner alive. He therefore repressed hisindignation, and awaited what should pass between the ruffian and hisgipsy guide.

  'And how are ye now?' said the harsh and discordant tones of his femaleattendant.' Said I not, it would come upon you--ay, and in this verycave, where ye harboured after the deed?'

  'Wetter and sturm, ye hag!' replied Hatteraick, 'keep your deyvil'smatins till they're wanted. Have you seen Glossin?'

  'No,' replied Meg Merrilies; 'you've missed your blow, yeblood-spiller! and ye have nothing to expect from the tempter.'

  'Hagel!' exclaimed the ruffian, 'if I had him but by the throat! Andwhat am I to do then?'

  'Do?' answered the gipsy; 'die like a man, or be hanged like a dog!'

  'Hanged, ye hag of Satan! The hemp's not sown that shall hang me.'

  'It's sown, and it's grown, and it's heckled, and it's twisted. Did Inot tell ye, when ye wad take away the boy Harry Bertram, in spite ofmy prayers,--did I not say he would come back when he had dree'd hisweird in foreign land till his twenty-first year? Did I not say theauld fire would burn down to a spark, but wad kindle again?'

  'Well, mother, you did say so,' said Hatteraick, in a tone that hadsomething of despair in its accents; 'and, donner and blitzen! Ibelieve you spoke the truth. That younker of Ellangowan has been a rockahead to me all my life! And now, with Glossin's cursed contrivance, mycrew have been cut off, my boats destroyed, and I daresay the lugger'staken; there were not men enough left on board to work her, far less tofight her--a dredge-boat might have taken her. And what will the ownerssay? Hagel and sturm! I shall never dare go back again to Flushing.'

  'You'll never need,' said the gipsy.

  'What are you doing there,' said her companion; 'and what makes you saythat?'

  During this dialogue Meg was heaping some flax loosely together. Beforeanswer to this question she dropped a firebrand upon the flax, whichhad been previously steeped in some spirituous liquor, for it instantlycaught fire and rose in a vivid pyramid of the most brilliant light upto the very top of the vault. As it ascended Meg answered the ruffian'squestion in a firm and steady voice: 'BECAUSE THE HOUR'S COME, AND THEMAN.'

  At the appointed signal Bertram and Dinmont sprung
over the brushwoodand rushed upon Hatteraick. Hazlewood, unacquainted with their plan ofassault, was a moment later. The ruffian, who instantly saw he wasbetrayed, turned his first vengeance on Meg Merrilies, at whom hedischarged a pistol. She fell with a piercing and dreadful cry betweenthe shriek of pain and the sound of laughter when at its highest andmost suffocating height. 'I kenn'd it would be this way,' she said.

  Bertram, in his haste, slipped his foot upon the uneven rock whichfloored the cave--a fortunate stumble, for Hatteraick's second bulletwhistled over him with so true and steady an aim that, had he beenstanding upright, it must have lodged in his brain. Ere the smugglercould draw another pistol, Dinmont closed with him, and endeavoured bymain force to pinion down his arms. Such, however, was the wretch'spersonal strength, joined to the efforts of his despair, that, in spiteof the gigantic force with which the Borderer grappled him, he draggedDinmont through the blazing flax, and had almost succeeded in drawing athird pistol, which might have proved fatal to the honest farmer, hadnot Bertram, as well as Hazlewood, come to his assistance, when, bymain force, and no ordinary exertion of it, they threw Hatteraick onthe ground, disarmed him, and bound him. This scuffle, though it takesup some time in the narrative, passed in less than a single minute.When he was fairly mastered, after one or two desperate and almostconvulsionary struggles, the ruffian lay perfectly still and silent.'He's gaun to die game ony how,' said Dinmont; 'weel, I like him na thewaur for that.'

  This observation honest Dandie made while he was shaking the blazingflax from his rough coat and shaggy black hair, some of which had beensinged in the scuffle. 'He is quiet now,' said Bertram; 'stay by himand do not permit him to stir till I see whether the poor woman bealive or dead.' With Hazlewood's assistance he raised Meg Merrilies.

  'I kenn'd it would be this way,' she muttered, 'and it's e'en this waythat it should be.'

  The ball had penetrated the breast below the throat. It did not bleedmuch externally; but Bertram, accustomed to see gunshot wounds, thoughtit the more alarming. 'Good God! what shall we do for this poor woman?'said he to Hazlewood, the circumstances superseding the necessity ofprevious explanation or introduction to each other.

  'My horse stands tied above in the wood,' said Hazlewood. 'I have beenwatching you these two hours. I will ride off for some assistants thatmay be trusted. Meanwhile, you had better defend the mouth of thecavern against every one until I return.' He hastened away. Bertram,after binding Meg Merrilies's wound as well as he could, took stationnear the mouth of the cave with a cocked pistol in his hand; Dinmontcontinued to watch Hatteraick, keeping a grasp like that of Hercules onhis breast. There was a dead silence in the cavern, only interrupted bythe low and suppressed moaning of the wounded female and by the hardbreathing of the prisoner.