Great Britain -- History -- 17th century -- Fiction; Historical fiction
"Bide a wee and I’ll tell ye. Ye’ll mind that ye tellt me if ever I was
in need o’ onything, to come your way. Weel, I’ve been up Tweed, and
doun Tweed, and ower the hills, and up the hills, till there’s nae mair
places left for me to gang. So I heard o’ your gaun ower the seas, and
I took it into my heid that I wad like to gang tae. So here I am, at
your service."
The fellow’s boldness all but took my breath away. "What, in Heaven’s
name, would I take you with me for?" I asked. "I doubt we would suit
each other ill."
"Na, na, you and me wad gree fine. I’ve heard tell o’ ye, Laird, though
ye’ve heard little o’ me, and by a’ accoonts we’re just made for each
ither."
Now if any other one had spoken to me in this tone I should have made
short work of him; but I was pleased with this man’s conduct in the
affair just past, and, besides, I felt I owed something to my promise.
"But," said I, "going to Holland is not like going to Peebles fair, and
who is to pay your passage, man?"
"Oh," said he, "I maun e’en be your body-servant, so to speak."
"I have little need of a body-servant. I am used to shifting for
myself. But to speak to the purpose, what use could you be to me?"
"What use?" the man repeated. "Eh, sir, ye ken little o’ Nicol
Plenderleith to talk that gait. A’ the folk o’ Brochtoun and Tweedsmuir,
and awa’ ower by Clyde Water ken that there’s no his match for rinnin’
and speelin’ and shootin’ wi’ the musket; I’ll find my way oot o’ a hole
when a’ body else ’ill bide in’t. But fie on me to be blawin’ my ain
trumpet at siccan a speed. But tak me wi’ ye, and if I’m no a’ I say,
ye can cry me for a gowk at the Cross o’ Peebles."
Now I know not what possessed me, who am usually of a sober, prudent
nature, to listen to this man; but something in his brown, eager face
held me captive, and his powerful make filled me with admiration. He was
honest and kindly; I had had good evidence of both; and his bravery was
beyond doubting. I thought how such a man might be of use to me in a
foreign land, both as company and protection. I had taken a liking to
the fellow, and, with our family, such likings go for much.
Nevertheless, I was almost surprised at myself when I said:
"I like the look of you, Nicol Plenderleith, and am half-minded to take
you with me as my servant."
"I thank ye kindly, Laird. I kenned ye wad dae’t. I cam to meet ye
here wi’ my best claes for that very reason."
"You rascal," I cried, half laughing at his confidence, and half angry
at his audacity. "I’ve a good mind to leave you behind after all. You
talk as if you were master of all the countryside. But come along; we
will see if the landlord has not a more decent suit of clothes for your
back if you are going into my service. I will have no coughing,
catarrhy fellows about me."
"Hech," muttered my attendant, following, "ye micht as weel expect a
heron to get the cauld frae wadin’ in the water, as Nicol Plenderleith.
Howbeit, your will be done, sir."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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