Hunted and Harried
Page 24
dungeon, and his head put closeto the crevice, through which he could see the white ripples on thesummer sea far below.
A deep inspiration seemed for a moment to give new life--then aprolonged sigh, and the freed happy soul swept from the dungeons ofearth to the realms of celestial, light and liberty.
"He's breathin' the air o' Paradise noo," said Black, as he assisted toremove the dead man from the opening which the living were so eager toreach.
"Ye was up in the ither dungeon last night," he said, turning to the manwho had aided him; "what was a' the groans an' cries aboot?"
"Torturin' the puir lads that tried to escape," answered the man with adark frown.
"Hm! I thoucht as muckle. They were gey hard on them, I dar'say?"
"They were that! Ye see, the disease that's broke oot amang them--whatever it is--made some o' them sae desprit that they got through thewundy that looks to the sea an' creepit alang the precipice. It was adaft-like thing to try in the daylight; but certain death would hae beentheir lot, I suspec', if they had ventured on a precipice like that i'the dark. Some women washin' doon below saw them and gied the alarm.The gairds cam', the hue and cry was raised, the yetts were shut andfifteen were catched an' brought back--but twenty-five got away. Myheart is wae for the fifteen. They were laid on their backs on benches;their hands were bound doon to the foot o' the forms, an' burnin'matches were putt atween every finger, an' the sodgers blew on them tokeep them alight. The governor, ye see, had ordered this to gang onwithoot stoppin' for three oors! Some o' the puir fallows were deidafore the end o' that time, an' I'm thinkin' the survivors'll becrippled for life."
While listening to the horrible tale Andrew Black resolved on an attemptto escape that very night.
"Wull ye gang wi' me?" he asked of the only comrade whom he thoughtcapable of making the venture; but the comrade shook his head. "Na," hesaid, "I'll no' try. They've starved me to that extent that I've naestrength left. I grow dizzy at the vera thoucht. But d'ye think thewundy's big enough to let ye through?"
"Oo ay," returned Black with a faint smile. "I was ower stoot for'tance, but it's an ill wund that blaws nae guid. Stervation has made methin enough noo."
That night, when all--even the harassed prisoners--in Dunnottar Castlewere asleep, except the sentinels, the desperate man forced himself withdifficulty through the very small window of the dungeon. It wasunbarred, because, opening out on the face of an almost sheer precipice,it was thought that nothing without wings could escape from it. Black,however, had been accustomed to precipices from boyhood. He hadobserved a narrow ledge just under the window, and hoped that it mightlead to something. Just below it he could see another and narrowerledge. What was beyond that he knew not--and did not much care!
Once outside, with his breast pressed against the wall of rock, hepassed along pretty quickly, considering that he could not see more thana few yards before him. But presently he came to the end of the ledge,and by no stretching out of foot or hand could he find anotherprojection of any kind. He had now to face the great danger of slidingdown to the lower ledge, and his heart beat audibly against his ribs ashe gazed into the profound darkness below. Indecision was no part ofAndrew Black's character. Breathing a silent prayer for help anddeliverance, he sat down on the ledge with his feet overhanging theabyss. For one moment he reconsidered his position. Behind him weretorture, starvation, prolonged misery, and almost certain death. Belowwas perhaps instantaneous death, or possible escape.
He pushed off, again commending his soul to God, and slid down. For aninstant destruction seemed inevitable, but next moment his heels struckthe lower ledge and he remained fast. With an earnest "Thank God!" hebegan to creep along. The ledge conducted him to safer ground, and inanother quarter of an hour he was free!
To get as far and as quickly as possible from Dunnottar was now hischief aim. He travelled at his utmost speed till daybreak, when hecrept into a dry ditch, and, overcome by fatigue, forgot his sorrow inprofound unbroken slumber. Rising late in the afternoon, he made hisway to a cottage and begged for bread. They must have suspected what hewas and where he came from, but they were friendly, for they gave him aloaf and a few pence without asking questions.
Thus he travelled by night and slept by day till he made his way toEdinburgh, which he entered one evening in the midst of a crowd ofpeople, and went straight to Candlemaker Row.
Mrs. Black, Mrs. Wallace, Jean Black, and poor Agnes Wilson were in theold room when a tap was heard at the door, which immediately opened, anda gaunt, dishevelled, way-worn man appeared. Mrs. Black was startled atfirst, for the man, regardless of the other females, advanced towardsher. Then sudden light seemed to flash in her eyes as she extended bothhands.
"Mither!" was all that Andrew could say as he grasped them, fell on hisknees, and, with a profound sigh, laid his head upon her lap.
CHAPTER TWELVE.
THE DARKEST HOUR BEFORE THE DAWN.
Many months passed away, during which Andrew Black, clean-shaved,brushed-up, and converted into a very respectable, ordinary-lookingartisan, carried on the trade of a turner, in an underground cellar inone of the most populous parts of the Cowgate. Lost in the crowd washis idea of security. And he was not far wrong. His cellar had a wayof escape through a back door. Its grated window, under the level ofthe street, admitted light to his whirling lathe, but, aided by dirt onthe glass, it baffled the gaze of the curious.
His evenings were spent in Candlemaker Row, where, seated by the windowwith his mother, Mrs. Wallace, and the two girls, he smoked his pipe andcommented on Scotland's woes while gazing across the tombs at the glowin the western sky. Ramblin' Peter--no longer a beardless boy, but afairly well-grown and good-looking youth--was a constant visitor at theRow. Aggie Wilson had taught him the use of his tongue, but Peter wasnot the man to use it in idle flirtation--nor Aggie the girl to listenif he had done so. They had both seen too much of the stern side oflife to condescend on trifling.
Once, by a superhuman effort, and with an alarming flush of thecountenance, Peter succeeded in stammering a declaration of hissentiments. Aggie, with flaming cheeks and downcast eyes, accepted thedeclaration, and the matter was settled; that was all, for the subjecthad rushed upon both of them, as it were, unexpectedly, and as they werein the public street at the time and the hour was noon, furtherdemonstration might have been awkward.
Thereafter they were understood to be "keeping company." But they werea grave couple. If an eavesdropper had ventured to listen, sober talkalone would have repaid the sneaking act, and, not unfrequently,reference would have been heard in tones of deepest pathos to dreadfulscenes that had occurred on the shores of the Solway, or sorrowfulcomments on the awful fate of beloved friends who had been banished to"the plantations."
One day Jean--fair-haired, blue-eyed, pensive Jean--was seated in thecellar with her uncle. She had brought him his daily dinner in a tincan, and he having just finished it, was about to resume his work whilethe niece rose to depart. Time had transformed Jean from a pretty girlinto a beautiful woman, but there was an expression of profoundmelancholy on her once bright face which never left it now, save when apassing jest called up for an instant a feeble reminiscence of the sweetold smile.
"Noo, Jean, awa' wi' ye. I'll never get thae parritch-sticks feenishedif ye sit haverin' there."
Something very like the old smile lighted up Jean's face as she rose,and with a "weel, good-day, uncle," left the cellar to its busyoccupant.
Black was still at work, and the shadows of evening were beginning tothrow the inner end of the cellar into gloom, when the door slowlyopened and a man entered stealthily. The unusual action, as well as theappearance of the man, caused Black to seize hold of a heavy piece ofwood that leaned against his lathe. The thought of being discovered andsent back to Dunnottar, or hanged, had implanted in our friend asalutary amount of caution, though it had not in the slightest degreeaffected his nerve or his cool promptitude in danger. He haddeliberately m
ade up his mind to remain quiet as long as he should belet alone, but if discovered, to escape or die in the attempt.
The intruder was a man of great size and strength, but as he seemed tobe alone, Black quietly leaned the piece of wood against the lathe againin a handy position.
"Ye seem to hae been takin' lessons frae the cats lately, to judge fromyer step," said Black. "Shut the door, man, behint ye. There's a drafti' this place that'll be like to gie ye the rheumatiz."
The man obeyed, and, advancing silently, stood before the lathe. Therewas light enough to reveal the fact that his countenance was handsome,though bronzed almost to the colour of mahogany, while the lower part