Great Britain -- History -- 17th century -- Fiction; Historical fiction
An old catch, which wandering packmen used to sing,
and which they called "The North Countree," ran in my head; and, as I
looked over the vessel’s bowsprit, I found myself humming:
"There’s an eye that ever weeps, and a fair face will be fain
When I ride through Annan Water wi’ my bonny bands again."
Then I fell to thinking of the house of Barns, and of the many things
which I should do were I home. There was much need of change in the
rooms, which had scarce been touched for years. Also I figured to
myself the study I should make, and the books which were to fill it.
Then out of doors there was need of planting on the hillsides and
thinning in the haughlands; and I swore I should have a new cauld made
in Tweed, above the island, for the sake of the fishing. All this and
more should I do "when I rode through Annan Water wi’ my bonny bands
again."
We left Rotterdam on the evening of one day, and sailed throughout the
day following; and since we had a fair wind and a stout ship, about noon
on the next we rounded the Bass and entered the Forth. I was filled
with great gladness to see my native land once more, and as for my
servant, I could scarce prevail upon him to keep from flinging his hat
into the sea or climbing to the masthead in the excess of his delight.
The blue Lomonds of Fife, the long ridge of the Lammermoors, and the
great battlements of the Pentlands were to me like honey in the mouth,
so long had I been used to flat lands. And beyond them I saw the line
of the Moorfoots, ending in Dundreich, which is a hill not five miles
from the town of Peebles.
About three of the clock we entered Leith Roads and awaited the signals
for admission. "The Seamaw lies at the wast harbour for usual," said
the captain, "but there’s something wrong thereaways the day, so we maun
e’en run into the east." So, soon amid a throng of barques at anchor
and small boats moving to and fro among them, we steered our course, and
in a very little lay against the grey, sea-washed walls of the east
quay. There we landed, after bidding farewell to the captain; and as my
feet touched the well-worn cobblestones, and I smelt the smell of tar
and herrings, I knew my own land. The broad twang of the fishermen, the
shrill yatter of the fishwives, the look of the black, red-tiled houses,
and the spires of the kirks—all was so Scots that it went straight to my
heart, and it was with a cheerful spirit that, followed by my servant, I
made for the inn of _The Three Herrings_, where I purposed to sleep the
night ere I rode to Tweeddale on the morrow. So much for man’s devices:
this was to be to me the last day of quiet life for many months. But as
I briskly strode along the Harbour Walk, little I foresaw of the dangers
and troubles which awaited my coming.
BOOK III—THE HILLMEN
CHAPTER I
THE PIER O’ LEITH
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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