CHAPTER XV
BLACK ANDIE'S TALE OF TOD LAPRAIK
I have yet said little of the Highlanders. They were all three of thefollowers of James More, which bound the accusation very tight abouttheir master's neck. All understood a word or two of English; but Neilwas the only one who judged he had enough of it for general converse, inwhich (when once he got embarked) his company was often tempted to thecontrary opinion. They were tractable, simple creatures; showed muchmore courtesy than might have been expected from their raggedness andtheir uncouth appearance, and fell spontaneously to be like threeservants for Andie and myself.
Dwelling in that isolated place, in the old falling ruins of a prison,and among endless strange sounds of the sea and the sea-birds, I thoughtI perceived in them early the effects of superstitious fear. When therewas nothing doing they would either lie and sleep, for which theirappetite appeared insatiable, or Neil would entertain the others withstories which seemed always of a terrifying strain. If neither of thesedelights were within reach--if perhaps two were sleeping and the thirdcould find no means to follow their example--I would see him sit andlisten and look about him in a progression of uneasiness, starting, hisface blenching, his hands clutched, a man strung like a bow. The natureof these fears I had never an occasion to find out, but the sight ofthem was catching, and the nature of the place that we were infavourable to alarms. I can find no word for it in the English, butAndie had an expression for it in the Scots from which he never varied.
"Ay," he would say, "_it's an unco place, the Bass_." It is so I alwaysthink of it. It was an unco place by night, unco by day; and these wereunco sounds, of the calling of the solans, and the plash of the sea andthe rock echoes, that hung continually in our ears. It was chiefly so inmoderate weather. When the waves were anyway great they roared about therock like thunder and the drums of armies, dreadful but merry to hear;and it was in the calm days that a man could daunt himself withlistening--not a Highlandman only, as I several times experimented onmyself, so many still, hollow noises haunted and reverberated in theporches of the rock.
This brings me to a story I heard, and a scene I took part in, whichquite changed our terms of living, and had a great effect on mydeparture. It chanced one night I fell in a muse beside the fire and(that little air of Alan's coming back to my memory) began to whistle. Ahand was laid upon my arm, and the voice of Neil bade me to stop, for itwas not "canny musics."
"Not canny?" I asked. "How can that be?"
"Na," said he; "it will be made by a bogle and her wanting ta heid uponhis body."[13]
"Well," said I, "there can be no bogles here, Neil; for it's not likelythey would fash themselves to frighten solan geese."
"Ay?" says Andie, "is that what ye think of it? But I'll can tell yethere's been waur nor bogles here."
"What's waur than bogles, Andie?" said I.
"Warlocks," said he. "Or a warlock at the least of it. And that's aqueer tale, too," he added. "And if ye would like, I'll tell it ye."
To be sure we were all of the one mind, and even the Highlander that hadthe least English of the three set himself to listen with all his might.
THE TALE OF TOD LAPRAIK
My faither, Tam Dale, peace to his banes, was a wild, sploring lad inhis young days, wi' little wisdom and less grace. He was fond of a lassand fond of a glass, and fond of a ran-dan; but I could never hear tellthat he was muckle use for honest employment. Frae ae thing to anither,he listed at last for a sodger and was in the garrison of this fort,which was the first way that ony of the Dales cam to set foot upon theBass. Sorrow upon that service! The governor brewed his ain ale; itseems it was the warst conceivable. The rock was proveesioned frae theshore with vivers, the thing was ill-guided, and there were whiles whenthey but to fish and shoot solans for their diet. To crown a', thir wasthe Days of the Persecution. The perishin' cauld chalmers were alloccupeed wi' sants and martyrs, the saut of the yearth, of which itwasnae worthy. And though Tam Dale carried a firelock there, a singlesodger, and liked a lass and a glass, as I was sayin', the mind of theman was mair just than set with his position. He had glints of the gloryof the kirk; there were whiles when his dander rase to see the Lord'ssants misguided, and shame covered him that he should be haulding acan'le (or carrying a firelock) in so black a business. There werenights of it when he was here on sentry, the place a' wheesht, thefrosts o' winter maybe riving in the wa's, and he would hear are o' theprisoners strike up a psalm, and the rest join in, and the blessedsounds rising from the different chalmers--or dungeons, I would raithersay--so that this auld craig in the sea was like a pairt of Heev'n.Black shame was on his saul; his sins hove up before him muckle as theBass, and above a', that chief sin, that he should have a hand inhagging and hashing at Christ's Kirk. But the truth is that he resistedthe spirit. Day cam, there were the rousing companions, and his guidresolves depairtit.
In thir days, dwalled upon the Bass a man of God, Peden the Prophet washis name. Ye'll have heard tell of Prophet Peden. There was never thewale of him sinsyne, and it's a question wi' mony if there ever was hislike afore. He was wild 's a peat-hag, fearsome to look at, fearsome tohear, his face like the day of judgment. The voice of him was like asolan's and dinnle'd in folks' lugs, and the words of him like coals offire.
Now there was a lass on the rock, and I think she had little to do, forit was nae place far dacent weemen; but it seems she was bonny, and herand Tam Dale were very well agreed. It befell that Peden was in thegairden his lane at the praying when Tam and the lass cam by; and whatshould the lassie do but mock with laughter at the sant's devotions? Herose and lookit at the twa o' them, and Tam's knees knoitered thegetherat the look of him. But whan he spak, it was mair in sorrow than inanger. "Poor thing, poor thing!" says he, and it was the lass he lookitat. "I hear you skirl and laugh," he says, "but the Lord has a deid shotprepared for you, and at that surprising judgment ye shall skirl but theae time!" Shortly thereafter she was daundering on the craigs wi'twa-three sodgers, and it was a blawy day. There cam a gowst of wind,claught her by the coats, and awa' wi' her bag and baggage. And it wasremarked by the sodgers that she gied but the ae skirl.
Nae doubt this judgment had some weicht upon Tam Dale; but it passedagain and him none the better. Ae day he was flyting wi' anithersodger-lad. "Deil hae me!" quo' Tam, for he was a profane swearer. Andthere was Peden glowering at him, gash an' waefu'; Peden wi' his langchafts an' luntin' een, the maud happed about his kist, and the hand ofhim held out wi' the black nails upon the finger-nebs--for he had naecare of the body. "Fy, fy, poor man!" cries he, "the poor fool man!_Deil hae me_, quo' he; an' I see the deil at his oxter." The convictionof guilt and grace cam in on Tam like the deep sea; he flang doun thepike that was in his hands--"I will nae mair lift arms against the causeo' Christ!" says he, and was as gude's word. There was a sair fyke inthe beginning, but the governor, seeing him resolved, gied him hisdischairge, and he went and dwallt and merried in North Berwick, and hadaye a gude name with honest folk frae that day on.
It was in the year seeventeen hunner and sax that the Bass cam in thehands o' the Da'rymples, and there was twa men soucht the chairge of it.Baith were weel qualified, for they had baith been sodgers in thegarrison, and kent the gate to handle solans, and the seasons and valuesof them. Forby that they were baith--or they baith seemed--earnestprofessors and men of comely conversation. The first of them was justTam Dale, my faither. The second was ane Lapraik, whom the folk ca'd TodLapraik maistly, but whether for his name or his nature I could neverhear tell. Weel, Tam gaed to see Lapraik upon this business, and tookme, that was a toddlin' laddie, by the hand. Tod had his dwallin' in thelang loan benorth the kirkyaird. It's a dark uncanny loan, forby thatthe kirk has aye had an ill name since the days o' James the Saxt andthe deevil's cantrips played therein when the Queen was on the seas; andas for Tod's house, it was in the mirkest end, and was little liked bysome that kenned the best. The door was on the sneck that day, and meand my faither gaed straucht in. Tod was a wabster to his trade
; hisloom stood in the but. There he sat, a muckle fat, white hash of a manlike creish, wi' a kind of a holy smile that gart me scunner. The handof him aye cawed the shuttle, but his een was steeked. We cried to himby his name, we skirled in the deid lug of him, we shook him by theshou'ther. Nae mainner o' service! There he sat on his dowp, an' cawedthe shuttle and smiled like creish.
"God be guid to us," says Tam Dale, "this is no canny!"
He had jimp said the word, when Tod Lapraik cam to himsel'.
"Is this you, Tam?" says he. "Haith, man! I'm blythe to see ye. I whilesfa' into a bit dwam like this," he says; "it's frae the stamach."
Weel, they began to crack about the Bass and which of them twa was toget the warding o't, and by little and little cam to very ill words, andtwined in anger. I mind weel, that as my faither and me gaed hame again,he cam ower and ower the same expression, how little he likit TodLapraik and his dwams.
"Dwam!" says he. "I think folk hae brunt far dwams like yon."
Aweel, my faither got the Bass and Tod had to go wantin'. It wasremembered sinsyne what way he had ta'en the thing. "Tam," says he, "yehae gotten the better o'me aince mair, and I hope," says he, "ye'll findat least a' that ye expeckit at the Bass." Which have since been thoughtremarkable expressions. At last the time came for Tam Dale to take youngsolans. This was a business he was weel used wi', he had been acraigsman frae a laddie, and trustit nane but himsel'. So there was hehingin' by a line an' speldering on the craig face, whaur it's hieestand steighest. Fower tenty lads were on the tap, hauldin' the line andmindin' for his signals. But whaur Tam hung there was naething but thecraig, and the sea belaw, and the solans skirling and flying. It was abraw spring morn, and Tam whustled as he claught in the young geese.Mony's the time I heard him tell of this experience, and aye the swatran upon the man.
It chanced, ye see, that Tam keeked up, and he was awaur of a mucklesolan, and the solan pyking at the line. He thocht this by-ordinar andoutside the creature's habits. He minded that ropes was unco saftthings, and the solan's neb and the Bass Rock unco hard, and that twahunner feet were raither mair than he would care to fa'.
"Shoo!" says Tam. "Awa', bird! Shoo, awa' wi' ye!" says he.
The solan keekit doun into Tam's face, and there was something unco inthe creature's ee. Just the ae keek it gied, and back to the rope. Butnow it wroucht and warstl't like a thing dementit. There never was thesolan made that wroucht as that solan wroucht; and it seemed tounderstand it's employ brawly, birzing the saft rope between the neb ofit and a crunkled jag o' stane.
There gaed a cauld stend o' fear into Tam's heart. "This thing is naebird," thinks he. His een turnt backward in his heid and the day gaedblack about him. "If I get a dwam here," he thoucht, "it's by wi' TamDale." And he signalled for the lads to pu' him up.
And it seemed the solan understood about signals. For nae sooner was thesignal made than he let be the rope, spried his wings, squawked outloud, took a turn flying, and dashed straucht at Tam Dale's een. Tam hada knife, he gart the cauld steel glitter. And it seemed the solanunderstood about knives, for nae suner did the steel glint in the sunthan he gied the ae squawk, but laigher, like a body disappointit, andflegged aff about the roundness of the craig, and Tam saw him nae mair.And as sune as that thing was gane, Tam's held drapt upon his shouther,and they pu'd him up like a deid corp, dadding on the craig.
A dram of brandy (which he went never without) broucht him to his mind,or what was left of it. Up he sat.
"Rin, Geordie, rin to the boat, mak' sure of the boat, man--rin!" hecries, "or yon solan 'll have it awa'," says he.
The fower lads stared at ither, an' tried to whilly-wha him to be quiet.But naething, would satisfy Tam Dale, till ane o' them had startit onaheid to stand sentry on the boat. The ithers askit if he was for downagain.
"Na," says he, "and niether you nor me," says he, "and as sune as I canwin to stand on my twa feet we'll be aff frae this craig o' Sawtan."
Sure eneuch, nae time was lost, and that was ower muckle; for beforethey won to North Berwick Tam was in a crying fever. He lay a' thesimmer; and wha was sae kind as come speiring for him, but Tod Lapraik!Folk thocht afterwards that ilka time Tod cam near the house the feverhad worsened. I kenna for that; but what I ken the best, that was theend of it.
It was about this time o' the year; my grandfaither was out at the whitefishing; and like a bairn, I but to gang wi' him. We had a grand take, Imind, and the way that the fish lay broucht us near in by the Bass,whaur we forgaithered wi' anither boat that belanged to a man SandieFletcher in Castleton. He's no lang deid niether, or ye could spier athimsel'. Weel, Sandie hailed.
"What's yon on the Bass?" says he.
"On the Bass?" says grandfaither.
"Ay," says Sandie, "on the green side o't."
"Whatten kind of a thing?" says grandfaither. "There cannae be naethingon the Bass but just the sheep."
"It looks unco like a body," quo' Sandie, who was nearer in.
"A body!" says we, and we nane of us likit that. For there was nae boatthat could have broucht a man, and the key o' the prison yett hung owermy faither's held at hame in the press bed.
We keept the twa boats closs for company, and crap in nearer hand.Grandfaither had a gless, for he had been a sailor, and the captain of asmack, and had lost her on the sands of Tay. And when we took the glessto it, sure eneuch there was a man. He was in a crunkle o' green brae, awee below the chaipel, a' by his lee lane, and lowped and flang anddanced like a daft quean at a waddin'.
"It's Tod," says grandfaither, and passed the gless to Sandie.
"Ay, it's him," says Sandie.
"Or ane in the likeness o' him,'' says grandfaither.
"Sma' is the differ," quo' Sandie. "De'il or warlock, I'll try the gunat him," quo' he, and broucht up a fowling-piece that he aye carried,for Sandie was a notable famous shot in all that country.
"Haud your hand, Sandie," says grandfaither; "we maun see clearerfirst," says he, "or this may be a dear day's wark to the baith of us."
"Hout!" says Sandie, "this is the Lord's judgments surely, and be damnedto it!" says he.
"Maybe ay, and maybe no," says my grandfaither, worthy man! "But haveyou a mind of the Procurator Fiscal, that I think ye'll haveforgaithered wi' before," says he.
This was ower true, and Sandie was a wee thing set ajee. "Aweel, Edie,"says he, "and what would be your way of it?"
"Ou, just this," says grandfaither. "Let me that has the fastest boatgang back to North Berwick, and let you bide here and keep an eye onThon. If I cannae find Lapraik, I'll join ye and the twa of us'll have acrack wi' him. But if Lapraik's at hame, I'll rin up the flag at theharbour, and ye can try Thon Thing wi' the gun."
Aweel, so it was agreed between them twa. I was just a bairn, an' clumin Sandie's boat, whaur I thoucht I would see the best of the employ. Mygrandsire gied Sandie a siller tester to pit in his gun wi' the leiddraps, bein' mair deidly again bogles. And then the ae boat set aff forNorth Berwick, an' the tither lay whaur it was and watched the wanchancything on the braeside.
A' the time we lay there it lowped and flang and capered and span like ateetotum, and whiles we could hear it skelloch as it span. I hae seenlassies, the daft queans, that would lowp and dance a winter's nicht,and still be lowping and dancing when the winter's day cam in. But therewould be folk there to hauld them company, and the lads to egg them on;and this thing was its lee-lane. And there would be a fiddler diddlinghis elbock in the chimney-side; and this thing had nae music but theskirling of the solans. And the lassies were bits o' young things wi'the reid life dinnling and stending in their members; and this was amuckle, fat, crieshy man, and him fa'n in the vale o' years. Say what yelike, I maun say what I believe. It was joy was in the creature's heart;the joy o' hell, I daursay: joy whatever. Mony a time I have askitmysel', why witches and warlocks should sell their sauls (whilk aretheir maist dear possessions) and be auld, duddy, wrunkl't wives orauld, feckless, doddered men; and then I mind upon Tod Lapraik dancinga' they hour
s by his lane in the black glory of his heart. Nae doubtthey burn for it in muckle hell, but they have a grand time here of it,whatever!--and the Lord forgie us!
Weel, at the hinder end, we saw the wee flag yirk up to the mast-heldupon the harbour rocks. That was a' Sandie waited for. He up wi' thegun, took a deleeberate aim, an' pu'd the trigger. There cam' a bang andthen ae waefu' skirl frae the Bass. And there were we rubbin' our eenand lookin' at ither like daft folk. For wi' the bang and the skirl thething had clean disappeared. The sun glintit, the wund blew, and therewas the bare yaird whaur the Wonder had been lowping and flinging but aesecond syne.
The hale way hame I roared and grat wi' the terror of that dispensation.The grawn folk were nane sae muckle better; there was little said inSandie's boat but just the name of God; and when we won in by the pier,the harbour rocks were fair black wi' the folk waitin' us. It seems theyhad fund Lapraik in ane of his dwams, cawing the shuttle and smiling. Aelad they sent to hoist the flag, and the rest abode there in thewabster's house. You may be sure they liked it little; but it was ameans of grace to severals that stood there praying in to themsel's (fornane cared to pray out loud) and looking on thon awesome thing as itcawed the shuttle. Syne, upon a suddenty, and wi' the ae driedfu'skelloch, Tod sprang up frae his hinderlands and fell forrit on the wab,a bluidy corp.
When the corp was examined the leid draps hadnae played buff upon thewarlock's body; sorrow a leid drap was to be fund; but there wasgrandfather's siller tester in the puddock's heart of him.
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Andie had scarce done when there befell a mighty silly affair that hadits consequence. Neil, as I have said, was himself a great narrator. Ihave heard since that he knew all the stories in the Highlands; andthought much of himself, and was thought much of by others, on thestrength of it. Now Andie's tale reminded him of one he had alreadyheard.
"She would ken that story afore," he said. "She was the story of UisteanMore M'Gillie Phadrig and the Gavar Vore."
"It is no sic a thing," cried Andie. "It is the story of my faither (nowwi' God) and Tod Lapraik. And the same in your beard," says he; "andkeep the tongue of ye inside your Hielant chafts!"
In dealing with Highlanders it will be found, and has been shown inhistory, how well it goes with Lowland gentlefolk; but the thing appearsscarce feasible for Lowland commons. I had already remarked that Andiewas continually on the point of quarrelling with our three Macgregors,and now, sure enough, it was to come.
"Thir will be no words to use to shentlemans," says Neil.
"Shentlemans!" cries Andie. "Shentlemans, ye hielant stot! If God wouldgive ye the grace to see yoursel' the way that ithers see ye, ye wouldthrow your denner up."
There came some kind of a Gaelic oath from Neil, and the black knife wasin his hand that moment.
There was no time to think; and I caught the Highlander by the leg, andhad him down, and his armed hand pinned out, before I knew what I wasdoing. His comrades sprang to rescue him, Andie and I were withoutweapons, the Gregara three to two. It seemed we were beyond salvation,when Neil screamed in his own tongue, ordering the others back, and madehis submission to myself in a manner the most abject, even giving me uphis knife which (upon a repetition of his promises) I returned to him onthe morrow.
Two things I saw plain: the first, that I must not build too high onAndie, who had shrunk against the wall and stood there, as pale asdeath, till the affair was over; the second, the strength of my ownposition with the Highlanders, who must have received extraordinarycharges to be tender of my safety. But if I thought Andie came not verywell out in courage, I had no fault to find with him upon the account ofgratitude. It was not so much that he troubled me with thanks, as thathis whole mind and manner appeared changed; and as he preserved everafter a great timidity of our companions, he and I were yet moreconstantly together.
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David Balfour Page 16
