Adventure stories; Scotland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
This was all our talk, nor did any other son of man appear upon that
portion of the coast until the sun had gone down among the Highland
mountains, and the gloaming was beginning to grow dark. At which hour I
was aware of a long, lean, bony-like Lothian man of a very swarthy
countenance, that came towards us among the bents on a farm horse.
“Lads,” cried he, “has ye a paper like this?” and held up one in his
hand. Neil produced a second, which the newcomer studied through a pair
of horn spectacles, and saying all was right and we were the folk he
was seeking, immediately dismounted. I was then set in his place, my
feet tied under the horse’s belly, and we set forth under the guidance
of the Lowlander. His path must have been very well chosen, for we met
but one pair—a pair of lovers—the whole way, and these, perhaps taking
us to be free-traders, fled on our approach. We were at one time close
at the foot of Berwick Law on the south side; at another, as we passed
over some open hills, I spied the lights of a clachan and the old tower
of a church among some trees not far off, but too far to cry for help,
if I had dreamed of it. At last we came again within sound of the sea.
There was moonlight, though not much; and by this I could see the three
huge towers and broken battlements of Tantallon, that old chief place
of the Red Douglases. The horse was picketed in the bottom of the ditch
to graze, and I was led within, and forth into the court, and thence
into the tumble-down stone hall. Here my conductors built a brisk fire
in the midst of the pavement, for there was a chill in the night. My
hands were loosed, I was set by the wall in the inner end, and (the
Lowlander having produced provisions) I was given oatmeal bread and a
pitcher of French brandy. This done, I was left once more alone with my
three Highlandmen. They sat close by the fire drinking and talking; the
wind blew in by the breaches, cast about the smoke and flames, and sang
in the tops of the towers; I could hear the sea under the cliffs, and,
my mind being reassured as to my life, and my body and spirits wearied
with the day’s employment, I turned upon one side and slumbered.
I had no means of guessing at what hour I was wakened, only the moon
was down and the fire was low. My feet were now loosed, and I was
carried through the ruins and down the cliff-side by a precipitous path
to where I found a fisher’s boat in a haven of the rocks. This I was
had on board of, and we began to put forth from the shore in a fine
starlight.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE BASS
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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