Adventure and adventurers -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Kidnapping -- Fiction; Scotland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
“It sticks in my mind that he would take it very ill,” says Alan. “But
the little man cried to me to run, and indeed I thought it was a good
observe, and ran. The last that I saw they were all in a knot upon the
beach, like folk that were not agreeing very well together.”
“What do you mean by that?” said I.
“Well, the fists were going,” said Alan; “and I saw one man go down like
a pair of breeks. But I thought it would be better no to wait. Ye see
there’s a strip of Campbells in that end of Mull, which is no good
company for a gentleman like me. If it hadnae been for that I would have
waited and looked for ye mysel’, let alone giving a hand to the little
man.” (It was droll how Alan dwelt on Mr. Riach’s stature, for, to say
the truth, the one was not much smaller than the other.) “So,” says he,
continuing, “I set my best foot forward, and whenever I met in with any
one I cried out there was a wreck ashore. Man, they didnae stop to fash
with me! Ye should have seen them linking for the beach! And when they
got there they found they had had the pleasure of a run, which is aye
good for a Campbell. I’m thinking it was a judgment on the clan that the
brig went down in the lump and didnae break. But it was a very unlucky
thing for you, that same; for if any wreck had come ashore they would
have hunted high and low, and would soon have found ye.”
CHAPTER XIX
THE HOUSE OF FEAR
Night fell as we were walking, and the clouds, which had broken up in
the afternoon, settled in and thickened, so that it fell, for the
season of the year, extremely dark. The way we went was over rough
mountainsides; and though Alan pushed on with an assured manner, I could
by no means see how he directed himself.
At last, about half-past ten of the clock, we came to the top of a brae,
and saw lights below us. It seemed a house door stood open and let out a
beam of fire and candle-light; and all round the house and steading
five or six persons were moving hurriedly about, each carrying a lighted
brand.
“James must have tint his wits,” said Alan. “If this was the soldiers
instead of you and me, he would be in a bonny mess. But I dare say he’ll
have a sentry on the road, and he would ken well enough no soldiers
would find the way that we came.”
Hereupon he whistled three times, in a particular manner. It was strange
to see how, at the first sound of it, all the moving torches came to
a stand, as if the bearers were affrighted; and how, at the third, the
bustle began again as before.
Having thus set folks’ minds at rest, we came down the brae, and were
met at the yard gate (for this place was like a well-doing farm) by
a tall, handsome man of more than fifty, who cried out to Alan in the
Gaelic.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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