by Walter Scott
CHAPTER XLVII
THE CONFLICT
When Fergus Mac-Ivor and his friend had slept for a few hours, they wereawakened, and summoned to attend the Prince. The distant village-clockwas heard to toll three as they hastened to the place where he lay.He was already surrounded by his principal officers and the chiefs ofclans. A bundle of peas-straw, which had been lately his couch, nowserved for his seat. Just as Fergus reached the circle, the consultationhad broken up. 'Courage, my brave friends!' said the Chevalier, 'andeach one put himself instantly at the head of his command; a faithfulfriend [See Note 26.] has offered to guide us by a practicable, thoughnarrow and circuitous route, which, sweeping to our right, traversesthe broken ground and morass, and enables us to gain the firm and openplain, upon which the enemy are lying. This difficulty surmounted,Heaven and your good swords must do the rest.'
The proposal spread unanimous joy, and each leader hastened to get hismen into order with as little noise as possible. The army, moving byits right from off the ground on which they had rested, soon entered thepath through the morass, conducting their march with astonishing silenceand great rapidity. The mist had not risen to the higher grounds, sothat for some time they had the advantage of starlight. But this waslost as the stars faded before approaching day, and the head of themarching column, continuing its descent, plunged as it were into theheavy ocean of fog, which rolled its white waves over the whole plain,and over the sea by which it was bounded. Some difficulties were now tobe encountered, inseparable from darkness,--a narrow, broken, andmarshy path, and the necessity of preserving union in the march. These,however, were less inconvenient to Highlanders, from their habits oflife, than they would have been to any other troops, and they continueda steady and swift movement.
As the clan of Ivor approached the firm ground, following the track ofthose who preceded them, the challenge of a patrol was heard through themist, though they could not see the dragoon by whom it was made--'Whogoes there?'
'Hush!' cried Fergus, 'hush!--Let none answer, as he values hislife.--Press forward!' and they continued their march with silence andrapidity.
The patrol fired his carabine upon the body, and the report wasinstantly followed by the clang of his horse's feet as he galloped off.'HYLAX IN LIMINE LATRAT,' said the Baron of Bradwardine, who heard theshot; 'that loon will give the alarm.'
The clan of Fergus had now gained the firm plain, which had lately bornea large crop of corn. But the harvest was gathered in, and the expensewas unbroken by tree, bush, or interruption of any kind. The rest of thearmy were following fast, when they heard the drums of the enemy beatthe general. Surprise, however, had made no part of their plan, so theywere not disconcerted by this intimation that the foe was upon his guardand prepared to receive them. It only hastened their dispositions forthe combat, which were very simple.
The Highland army, which now occupied the eastern end of the wide plain,or stubble field, so often referred to, was drawn up in two lines,extending from the morass towards the sea. The first was destined tocharge the enemy, the second to act as a reserve. The few horse,whom the Prince headed in person, remained between the two lines. TheAdventurer had intimated a resolution to charge in person at the head ofhis first line; but his purpose was deprecated by all around him, and hewas with difficulty induced to abandon it.
Both lines were now moving forward, the first prepared for instantcombat. The clans of which it was composed, formed each a sort ofseparate phalanx, narrow in front, and in depth ten, twelve, or fifteenfiles, according to the strength of the following. The best armed andbest born, for the words were synonymous, were placed in front of eachof these irregular subdivisions. The others in the rear shoulderedforward the front, and by their pressure added both physical impulse,and additional ardour and confidence, to those who were first toencounter the danger.
'Down with your plaid, Waverley,' cried Fergus, throwing off his own;'we'll win silks for our tartans before the sun is above the sea.'
The clansmen on every side stripped their plaids, prepared their arms,and there was an awful pause of about three minutes, during whichthe men, pulling off their bonnets, raised their faces to heaven, anduttered a short prayer; then pulled their bonnets over their brows, andbegan to move forward at first slowly. Waverley felt his heart at thatmoment throb as it would have burst from his bosom. It was not fear, itwas not ardour,--it was a compound of both, a new and deeply energeticimpulse, that with its first emotion chilled and astounded, then feveredand maddened his mind, The sounds around him combined to exalt hisenthusiasm; the pipes played, and the clans rushed forward, each inits own dark column. As they advanced they mended their pace, and themuttering sounds of the men to each other began to swell into a wildcry.
At this moment, the sun, which was now risen above the horizon,dispelled the mist. The vapours rose like a curtain, and showed thetwo armies in the act of closing. The line of the regulars was formeddirectly fronting the attack of the Highlanders; it glittered withthe appointments of a complete army, and was flanked by cavalry andartillery. But the sight impressed no terror on the assailants.
'Forward, sons of Ivor,' cried their Chief, 'or the Camerons will drawthe first blood!'--They rushed on with a tremendous yell.
The rest is well known. The horse, who were commanded to charge theadvancing Highlanders in the flank, received an irregular fire fromtheir fusees as they ran on, and, seized with a disgraceful panic,wavered, halted, disbanded, and galloped from the field. Theartillerymen, deserted by the cavalry, fled after discharging theirpieces, and the Highlanders, who dropped their guns when fired, and drewtheir broadswords, rushed with headlong fury against the infantry.
It was at this moment of confusion and terror, that Waverley remarked anEnglish officer, apparently of high rank, standing alone and unsupportedby a field-piece, which, after the flight of the men by whom it waswrought, he had himself levelled and discharged against the clan ofMac-Ivor, the nearest group of Highlanders within his aim. Struckwith his tall, martial figure, and eager to save him from inevitabledestruction, Waverley outstripped for an instant even the speediest ofthe warriors, and, reaching the spot first, called to him to surrender.The officer replied by a thrust with his sword, which Waverley receivedin his target, and in turning it aside the Englishman's weapon broke.At the same time the battle-axe of Dugald Mahony was in the act ofdescending upon the officer's head. Waverley intercepted and preventedthe blow, and the officer, perceiving further resistance unavailing,and struck with Edward's generous anxiety for his safety, resigned thefragment of his sword, and was committed by Waverley to Dugald, withstrict charge to use him well, and not to pillage his person, promisinghim, at the same time, full indemnification for the spoil.
On Edward's right, the battle for a few minutes raged fierce and thick.The English infantry, trained in the wars in Flanders, stood theirground with great courage. But their extended files were pierced andbroken in many places by the close masses of the clans; and in thepersonal struggle which ensued, the nature of the Highlanders' weapons,and their extraordinary fierceness and activity, gave them a decidedsuperiority over those who had been accustomed to trust much to theirarray and discipline, and felt that the one was broken and the otheruseless. Waverley, as he cast his eyes towards this scene of smoke andslaughter, observed Colonel Gardiner, deserted by his own soldiers inspite of all his attempts to rally them, yet spurring his horse throughthe field to take the command of a small body of infantry, who, withtheir backs arranged against the wall of his own park (for his housewas close by the field of battle), continued a desperate and unavailingresistance. Waverley could perceive that he had already received manywounds, his clothes and saddle being marked with blood. To save thisgood and brave man, became the instant object of his most anxiousexertions. But he could only witness his fall. Ere Edward could makehis way among the Highlanders, who, furious and eager for spoil, nowthronged upon each other, he saw his former commander brought from hishorse by the blow of a scythe, and beheld him receiv
e, while on theground, more wounds than would have let out twenty lives. When Waverleycame up, however, perception had not entirely fled. The dying warriorseemed to recognize Edward, for he fixed his eye upon him with anupbraiding, yet sorrowful look, and appeared to struggle for utterance.But he felt that death was dealing closely with him, and resigning hispurpose, and folding his hands as if in devotion, he gave up his soulto his Creator. The look with which he regarded Waverley in his dyingmoments did not strike him so deeply at that crisis of hurry andconfusion, as when it recurred to his imagination at the distance ofsome time. [See Note 27.]
Loud shouts of triumph now echoed over the whole field. The battle wasfought and won, and the whole baggage, artillery, and military storesof the regular army remained in possession of the victors. Never was avictory more complete. Scarce any escaped from the battle, excepting thecavalry, who had left it at the very onset, and even these were brokeninto different parties and scattered all over the country. So far as ourtale is concerned, we have only to relate the fate of Balmawhapple, who,mounted on a horse as headstrong and stiff-necked as his rider, pursuedthe flight of the dragoons above four miles from the field of battle,when some dozen of the fugitives took heart of grace, turned round, and,cleaving his skull with their broadswords, satisfied the world thatthe unfortunate gentleman had actually brains, the end of his life thusgiving proof of a fact greatly doubted during its progress. His deathwas lamented by few. Most of those who knew him agreed in the pithyobservation of Ensign Maccombich, that there 'was mair TINT (lost) atSheriff-Muir.' His friend, Lieutenant Jinker, bent his eloquence onlyto exculpate his favourite mare from any share in contributing to thecatastrophe. 'He had tauld the laird a thousand times,' he said, 'thatit was a burning shame to put a martingale upon the puir thing, when hewould needs ride her wi' a curb of half a yard lang; and that he couldna but bring himsell (not to say her) to some mischief, by flinging herdown, or otherwise; whereas, if he had had a wee bit rinnin ring on thesnaffle, she wad ha' rein'd as cannily as a cadger's pownie.'
Such was the elegy of the Laird of Balmawhapple. [See Note 28.]
