Lochinvar: A Novel

He broke off with a quick, nervous laugh at his own thoughts.

"I am speaking as if we were always to dwell together on this island. But the sooner we get away the better it will be for both of us."

Yet, somehow, the imagination of his heart played about this idea of the seclusion of two on the isle of Fiara. For the escape itself Wat had his plans already laid. He knew that Kate was a strong swimmer – indeed, far his own superior at the art. Once in the old days she had beaten him hollow when but a half-grown girl, swimming two miles on the broad spaces of Loch Ken without a sign of fatigue. Scarlett was a more difficult problem. For the stout soldier had always held all that concerned the water in sovereign contempt, and Wat could see no way of conveying him safely across to the northern island. Yet it was essential for their escape that he should be taken thither, and that at the same time with Kate. For the islanders might be inclined to make short work of their remaining prisoner if they found that the maid, so straitly committed to their charge, had been spirited away.

So before committing himself for the second time to the strange water-gate which led to his beloved, Wat had all the details of his plot arranged. He resolved to make the attempt on the first night when the new moon should be far enough advanced to throw a faint light over the water and temper the darkness of the rock passage. He could construct of driftwood a raft large enough to carry those necessaries with which Bess Landsborough could furnish him out of her scanty stores without attracting attention. The raft would also be at least a partial support for Scarlett. Wat resolved to arrange the method of escape with Bess that very night, and obtain from her the cord before returning. When Wat emerged from the long passage it was perfectly dark. Not even a single star was to be seen. More than once had he scraped himself painfully on the concealed rocks and on the sides of the cavern; upon which he grumbled to himself as even a man in love will do, for he knew that he would feel these hurts very much more acutely on the morrow.

"This will not do at all for Scarlett, though Kate might manage well enough by keeping close to my shoulder," he said, shaking his head, which dripped with the salt-water, for the first break across the sound to the archway had been through a pretty briskly running jabble of spray.

But when Wat came out on the sea-front of Suliscanna he saw an unusual sight. Torches thronged in single file down the pathways. They flashed and crowded about the landing-place, passing and repassing each other. A boat-load of men was just disembarking in the nearer bay; while yet another was dropping down the slack of the ebb, coming from the south of the island and striking in for the shore exactly at the proper moment, like men who knew every turn of the currents.

Wat could hear the clatter of many voices.

Swimming silently and showing no more than the dark thatch of his hair over the water, he approached nearer. He might have been a seal for all the mark he made on the water.

As the torches gathered thicker about the landing-place, Wat could see the flash of arms as one gentleman and another disembarked. Presently a figure in black stepped ashore, and was greeted with a loud shout of welcome and acclaim by the islanders. Wat's heart sank within him, for he recognized his arch-enemy, and he knew that the difficulties of his task would now be infinitely increased. For my Lord of Barra it was indeed, who had at last come to claim his captive. And there behind him, like a hulking lubber-fiend, strode the burly, battered figure of Haxo the Bull, with the Calf and the Killer in close attendance.

CHAPTER XXXIV

CAPTOR AND CAPTIVE

Nevertheless, such a panoply is love that Wat's heart did not fail him. He waited till the flare of torches and the tumult of men's voices had withdrawn up the hill over which my Lord of Barra took his way to the house which he occupied during his infrequent visits to the island – a rude strength of stone consisting merely of three or four chambers which had been built after the castle on the rocks below had fallen into disrepair.

Wat swam ashore, keeping well to the right of the landing-place, where two or three men were still busied about the boats, securing them with ropes and getting out what bits of property had been left in them. Wat could not but feel a cold chill strike through his heart when he remembered that the possession of these boats by the islanders, together with their perfect knowledge of all the different states of the tide, would render his position upon the islet of Fiara infinitely more dangerous.

"All the more reason," quoth undaunted Wat, "for us to make the attempt this very night."

So, keeping as before to the short heather above the paths, he made his way silently upward towards Scarlett's dungeon and the dwelling of his love.

He found Bess Landsborough eagerly waiting for him. She dragged him sharply away from the cottages.

"Gang back," she whispered, shaking him almost roughly, as though he were to blame; "ken ye not that the chief has come and there will no' be a sober man on the island this nicht? Even my Alister, if he were to come across ye before morning, would think no more of sticking a knife in ye than of breaking the back of a foumart5 with a muckle stane."

"I know that," said Wat, with composure, "and that is the reason why I am going to take both Kate and Scarlett with me to-night."

"The laddie's fair raving," said the woman; "the thing's clear impossible. It canna be dune. Ye will hae to wait – some nicht when they are a' sleepin', maybe."

"I'm not going back alive without Kate McGhie," said Wat. "I cannot leave her with the cruel ravisher, Murdo of Barra – "

"Hoot, laddie," said Bess, "the chief will no' do the lassie ony harm. He's ben the hoose wi' her the noo."

Wat, who had been crouching behind a rock beside Bess Landsborough, at once sprang up and took his dagger bare in his hand. He was setting off in the direction of the hut with the intention of breaking in upon the colloquy of captive and captor, when Bess sprang on him and pulled him down with all the weight of her body about his neck and exerting the utmost strength of her brawny arms.

"Deil's in the laddie! He gangs aff like a spunk o' pooder laid on a peat. The laird's but talkin' wi' the lass in the kitchen, wi' my man Alister sittin' on the dresser, and half the rascaldom o' the Low Countries (well are they designate!) waiting at the door. A word or twa will do your lass little harm, unless she is o' the weak mind, and my lord can persuade her to marry him by the guile of his tongue."

Wat grunted contemptuously. This was the last thing he was afraid of.

"I want," he said, "whatever arms ye can furnish me with, some food of any portable sort – and a rope."

"Save us, laddie!" said Bess, holding up her hands; "ye might just as lief ask me this nicht for the Earldom of Barra."

"I must have them," said Wat, firmly, "if I have to forage for them myself."

"Aweel, I can but do my best," said the woman from Colmonel, resignedly; "but I kenna where I shall get them."

Very cautiously they made their way back to the cottage of Alister.

"Wheesht!" said Bess; "lie cowered behind that stone. They are on their road away. For this nicht surely your lass will be left at peace."

"And after that it will not matter," said Wat, looking cautiously over the edge of the bowlder, "for either we will be safe out of this evil isle, or else she and I will be where Barra and his devils can trouble us no more."

When Bess and Wat reached the dwelling of the son of Alister, they found it fallen strangely silent and dark. Bess went in boldly and promptly. Presently her voice was heard in high debate, and after a pause her husband, as if driven with ignominy from his own house, stumbled past Wat, and began clambering like a cat up the steep rock to the castle dungeon as easily as if he had been walking on a grass meadow by a water-side.

No sooner was he safe out of the way than the door of the hut opened circumspectly.

"Here!" said the mistress of the dwelling, in a far-reaching whisper.

Wat went up to the door-step. Bess Landsborough put out a hand, guided him through the murky intricacies of her outer room, and pushed him into that in which he had met his love the evening before.

Kate was sitting fully dressed on her bed with her head in her hands. She looked up with a sharp little cry as he entered.

"Kate," he whispered, "it is I – Wat."

Whereat she ran to him with a sob of relief that was very sweet to hear, and nestled with her head on his broad shoulder.

"Oh, thank God you have come! All will now be well."

Wat did not feel so sure of that, but, nevertheless, he caressed the clustering curls and held his love to his bosom, murmuring little meaningless words which Kate felt were better to listen to than much wisdom.

Presently Bess Landsborough brought Wat a pair of pistols, a double flask of powder, and a bagful of bullets.

"We must see about getting John Scarlett out of his prison," she said. "I have the victuals all ready. There is a rope behind the dike at the corner that looks to the sea. But ye had better get John Scarlett out first, and then ye can all three lend a hand at the carrying – save us! What's that?"

Bess Landsborough sprang sharply out of the inner room to the door which gave upon the moor.

"Hide ye, Wat Gordon," she said; "here comes some one to visit us."

Kate made Wat lie down between the compacted heather of her couch and the outer wall of the hut. Then she threw a coverlet deftly over him. Wat grasped his dagger bare in his right hand to be ready in any emergency, but his left found a way almost of its own accord through the heather, till in the darkness it rested in Kate's as she sat on the edge of the bed.

"My Lord of Barra," they heard Bess Landsborough say, without, "have ye forgotten aught? We thought you gone to repose yourself after your journey."

"Go find your husband and bring him hither, mistress!" commanded the stern voice of Barra.

"It's no' very like that Bess will gang far frae hame to seek her man, or ony ither man; there's mair than eneuch men in Bess's hoose this nicht!" said Mistress McAlister, under her breath. But with apparent obedience she went out – only, however, to ensconce herself immediately behind the door. She wanted, she said to herself, to "see their twa backs oot o' the kitchen without bloodshed."

Barra advanced boldly to the inner door which opened into Kate's chamber. He paused a moment and knocked lightly. The girl sat still and silent, but her hand gripped that of Wat closer to her side with a quick, instinctive thrill, which made that very true lover clutch his dagger and curse the man that could so wring with terror his sweet maid's heart.

"May I have a moment's private audience with you, Mistress Kate?" said Barra, from the outer room.

Kate did not answer a word.

The master of the island swung back the door and revealed his tall, slender figure, in his usual dress of simple black, standing in the doorway of the outer room. He stooped his head and entered as he did so. The girl instinctively moved a little nearer to Wat and clasped his hand more firmly. A little stifled cry escaped her. Wat cleared his dagger-hilt and made ready to spring upon his enemy. My Lord of Barra in all his checkered life had never been nearer death than he was at that moment. For Wat Gordon was deciding exactly where he would strike his first blow.

"I did not come again hither to alarm you," said Barra, "but that I might more fully vindicate myself alone with you than I could do in the presence of so many witnesses. That which I have done – your transporting from Holland and your seclusion here – I have done with full warrant and justification, not hastily nor yet without due authority."

"I know of no authority," said Kate, at last, speaking firmly, "which could warrant the seizure of a maid who never harmed or offended you, the carrying her off gagged and bound like a felon, sailing with her to another country, and there interning her upon a lonely isle till it should please you to come for her, like a jailer to a captive."

"My lady," said Barra, not without a certain respect in his voice, "I am well aware that I cannot expect you to take my word, for the circumstances are not ripe for me to tell you all. But I ask you to believe that neither disrespect nor passion, nor yet any selfish jealousy, prompted me to these so strange expedients. But on the contrary, a genuine desire for your happiness, and the direct request of those most deeply interested and intimately connected with you."

"And who may they be?" asked Kate, looking at him contemptuously; "I know none who have the right to give you leave to carry off a young maid from her friends at dead of night, with as little ceremony or mercy as Reynard does a gray goose out of the farmer's yard."

"Your father and your mother – are not they authority enough?" answered Barra.

The girl gazed at him in cold disdain.

"My father," she said, "never in his life crossed my will by word or deed. It was, indeed, by his permission and with his help that I went to Holland. And as for my mother, she has been dead and in her resting-grave these twenty years!"

"Nevertheless I had the permission and encouragement of the noble lady, your mother, in that which I have done, though I admit that of your father was a little more belated. That is what I wanted to say. You do not believe me, I am aware, and I am not able at present more particularly to unriddle the mystery. Nevertheless, rest assured that a Lord of Barra does not lie. I bid you good-night. Is it permitted to kiss your hand? Well, then, with all humble duty and observance, I kiss mine to you."

With that Barra bowed and went out backward through the narrow door, as if he had been ushering himself out of a queen's presence-chamber.

In the kitchen he passed Bess Landsborough, who opened on him with a voluble tale of how she had sought her husband high and low without any success, and how it was to be supposed that, like the rest, he had gone to drink his Lordship's health at the muckle house over the hill.

But Barra went by her without a word, and the mistress of Alister McAlister was left speaking to the empty air. She suddenly ceased as he disappeared in the dark, and turned for sympathy to Wat and Kate in the inner room.

"Siccan manners!" she said, indignantly; "they wadna set a Colmonel brood-sow – to gae by a decent woman like that muckle dirt, and yin, too, that had just gane on an errand for him. It's true I gaed nae farther than the back o' the door, but at ony rate he kenned nae better, and cam' back wi' news for his high michty chiefship. It's fair scandalous, that's what it is! Wha hae we here this shot? I declare my hoose is as thrang as a sacrament scailing, when the folk are flocking to the drinking-booths at Stanykirk holy fair."

The visitor on this occasion proved to be her husband Alister. He was already somewhat flushed of cheek and wild of eye.

He paused unsteadily in the middle of the kitchen and flung down a great key on the table.

"Take care of that till the morn's morn," he said. "I would maybe loss it. I am going out to drink till I be drunk."

And with this simple declaration of policy he strode out as he had come.

As soon as he had gone, Bess threw a damp turf over the clear peat fire on the hearth of the outer kitchen, which in a trice raised a dense smoke and rendered everything within dark and gloomy.

"Come awa'," she said, putting her head into the room where Kate, her heart beating wildly with the joy of reprieve and the presence of her beloved, was clinging to Wat's arm, as he stood on the floor with his dagger still ready and bare in his hand. "Haste ye and come away," she said; "there'll be time and to spare when ye get him safe to yourself, my lass, for a hale world o' cuikin' and joein'."

Wat and Kate came out quickly and Bess shut the door behind them. Outside the sharp air off the Atlantic chilled them like a drench of well-water on a summer's day, breathing keenly into their lungs after the close atmosphere of the hut.

They made their way up the steep to the castle. Across the door of the vault where John Scarlett was confined lay the prostrate body of a Celt, inert and stertorous.

Mistress McAlister stirred him with her foot, and then turned him completely over.

"As I thocht," she said, "it is just Misfortunate Colin. It will be an ill day for him the morn. But he is aye in the way o' mischances, onyway. He canna keep clear o' them. If a stane were to slip frae a rock tap in a' the isle, it is on Colin it wad light. If a rope break at the egg-harvest, 'tis Colin that's at the end o' the tow. I think a pity o' him, too – for barrin' the drink and the ill luck, he's a decent soul. But it juist canna be helpit."

So with that Bess undid the door with the key which Alister had thrown upon the table, and then carefully tucked it into the waist-belt of Colin the Misfortunate.

"It's a peety," she said; "but after a' it is a deal mair faceable and natural that the like o' this should hae happened to Colin than to ony ither man in the isle."

Jack Scarlett lay on his bed of heather tops, wrapped in his plaid, and slept the sleep of the easy of conscience.

"What's a' the tirrivee?"6 he growled, when Wat shook him. "Get up and escape – what's the terrible fyke and hurry? Disturbin' a man in his first sleep. Surely, ye could either hae comed afore he fell ower or let him hae his sleep oot. A man's health is afore a'thing when it comes to my time o' life. And it is no havers and nonsense – far frae't! But ye hae no consideration, Wat Gordon – never had, ever since I kenned ye."

So, growling and grumbling as was his wont, old Jack gathered his belongings together with soldierly practicality, pocketing the remains of his evening's meal, and bringing all sorts of treasures out of numberless hiding-places here and there about his dungeon.

"Now I am at your service," he said, as he stood erect.

CHAPTER XXXV

SKIRTING THE BREAKERS

As the party filed out of the low dungeon door, each of them of necessity stepped over the prostrate body of Misfortunate Colin. The fates that sport with destiny had offered him up a sacrifice to the wrath of his chief, in order that luckier men might go scatheless.

"It micht just as weel hae been Alister, my man!" said Bess; "for he will be as drunk as the lave, or maybe a kennin waur! But then Alister has been a fortunate man a' his days – no' like that puir tyke there that never supped meal porridge but he choked himsel' wi' the spoon!"

It was a night clear and infinite with stars when the four – Kate, Wat, Scarlett, and Bess – took up each their share of the arms and provisions, which the last-named had provided in the shelter of the dike. The air was still. There was no sound save the ceaseless soughing whisper of the mighty salt river as it rushed northward past the isle – the strange pervading sound of the Suck gurgling afar like the boiling of a pot. Only at intervals and from a distance came the shouting of choruses and the loud "Hooch!" of some reveller yet in the active stages of drinking long life and prosperity to the returned chieftain.

As soon as they had passed the ridge and left the village behind them, Wat paused for a consultation.

"'Tis little use," he said, "to think of making a raft at this time of night. Yet certain it is that we must be clear of the isle by the morning – that is, if one of us is to remain alive."

"I for ane am gaun to bide on Suliscanna!" said Mistress McAlister.

"There is but one way that I can think of," continued Wat, not heeding her; "there are two boats at the landing-place. I saw the men unloading them when I landed to-night. Now we could not take the larger of these into the tide-race, but if the tide be favorable we might seize the smaller and pilot it through the sea-cavern, by which I came hither, to my hiding-place on the isle of Fiara."

Jack Scarlett nodded silent assent as he listened to Wat's suggestion. The night-air had restored all his confidence, and he felt ready for anything. So on the darksome ridge overlooking the landing-place the two women were left to consume their souls with impatience, while Wat and Scarlett, with their daggers in their hands, stole stealthily down to effect their desperate capture.

The boats lay together on the inner side of a little stone breakwater. They were not drawn up on the beach, but secured stem and stern with ropes, and floated in the gentle undulation of the tide. Wat and Scarlett strained their eyes into the darkness for a sight of any watch. But spite of the stars, the night was too impenetrable for them to distinguish the presence of any human being on board.

Wat dropped into the water, having left his powder and shot, together with the pistols, in the care of Scarlett. He swam a few strokes out to the boat and listened. In the larger he could clearly distinguish the breathing of two men. The other appeared to be entirely empty. Promptly Wat cut the cord which secured the stem, and let that boat fall away and swing round with her head towards the shore. Then beckoning Scarlett, whose figure he could discern black against the sand of the beach, Wat stepped on board. Scarcely was he over the side when his foot trod on the soft body of a man. Wat was on him in a moment and had the fellow by the throat. But the helpless gurgle of his respiration, and the pervading smell of Hollands which disentangled itself from every part of his person, convinced Wat that he had nothing to fear from the crew of this boat.

There remained the other and larger, which was anchored farther out in the water of the little harbor. Cautiously Wat lifted the small double-pronged anchor, which still held their first prize. Scarlet waded in and was helped over the side. The tide swept them slowly round towards the larger vessel in which Wat had heard the breathing of men. Presently their boat went groaning and wheezing against the side-planks of her companion. Wat promptly and silently secured his position with the five-pronged boat-anchor which he had kept beside him for the purpose.

Scarlett and he were on board in a moment, and Wat found himself in the heat of a combat with a man who struck at him with a bar of iron as he came over the side. But the striker's companion did not move to his assistance, and with Wat's hand at his throat and Scarlett's knee on his breast, resistance was very brief indeed. A lantern was burning inside a small coil of ropes. This Wat folded in the cloak with which the sleepy-headed watch had been covering themselves in the bottom of the boat, and let a ray of its light fall on the faces of his captives. Both were known to him. They were the Calf and the Killer, the two inevitable scoundrels of Haxo the Bull's retinue.

"What shall we do with these fellows?" said Wat, looking up, disgustedly.

"Sink them with the boat," said Scarlett, promptly.

Wat shook his head. They lay so still and they looked so helpless – even the Killer, who had struck at Wat, was now resting his head on the thwart in perfect unconsciousness.

"We must get the drunken scoundrels ashore somehow," said Wat.

"We will tie them together with the rope, turn them over the side, and haul them ashore with the slack," said Scarlett; "and if it chance to break, why, so much the better." Without another word the master-at-arms set to work, packing the Calf and the Killer together as if they had been a couple of trussed chickens, exploring their pockets for plunder as he did so.

"Let the poor rascals' wallets alone, Jack!" cried Wat, indignantly.

"Nay, lad," quoth Scarlett, with imperturbable philosophy, possessing himself as he spoke of a clasp-knife and a flagon of strong waters, "the art of forage and requisition from the enemy is of the very essence of war, as the great Condé used often to say."

Presently Scarlett paid out the spare rope to Wat, who took it ashore with him. The bodies dropped without a splash into the water, and Wat, aided by the current, soon brought them to land and hauled them out of the water on to the pebbles. Then came Scarlett with a couple of balls of tow for plugging seams, which he thrust with gusto into their mouths.