Lochinvar: A NovelCrockett, S. R. (Samuel Rutherford)
History
Lochinvar: A Novel
Crockett, S. R. (Samuel Rutherford)
Covenanters -- Fiction; Scotland -- History -- 17th century -- Fiction
"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.
"That will keep things safe," he said. "I trust neither of these good
gentlemen is afflicted with a cold in his head, or else he might be
liable to choke, and so find himself in warmer and drier quarters at
his awaking!"
But the Calf and the Killer lay like brothers in each other's arms,
breathing gently and equably.
There remained but the man on the first and smaller boat. Wat climbed
back to him. He had not stirred. Then Lochinvar let a single ray of the
Killer's lantern fall on his face. He whistled softly at what he saw,
and beckoned Scarlett. It was none other than Wise Jan Pettigrew who
lay there, overcome by the potency of the spirits supplied by the Chief
of Suliscanna.
Wat now went back to the women. He found them where they had been left,
and Kate hurried forward.
"You are not hurt, Wat?" she said, anxiously, taking him by the hand,
"nor Scarlett?"
"No," said Wat; "but we must hasten to the boats. We have taken them
both safely."
So the two women accompanied him down to the harbor. Scarlett had
meanwhile been getting all the useful cargo out of the larger boat, and
by this time he had it piled up promiscuously about the unconscious
body of Wise Jan.
Before Kate went aboard the elder woman clung to her and kissed her in
the darkness.
"My lassie, are ye feared?"
"Feared?" said Kate, "why should I be afraid; am I not all his? I would
not be feared to go to the world's end with him."
Bess Landsborough sighed as if that did not greatly improve the case,
but she only said: "God keep you, my lassie, and let me see you soon
again. I declare ye hae grown to be the very light o' my e'en ever
since I took ye first to my arms in the cabin o' the _Sea Unicorn_."
It was the plan of Wat and Scarlett to take both boats as far out to
sea as possible, to scuttle one there, and then to make trial of the
dangerous passage of the sea-cave with the smaller and more easily
handled vessel.
The tide was now on the strong ebb, and there was a smart swirl of
current setting through the narrow entrance of the harbor. Wat cut the
rope of the larger boat which alone secured her to the shore.
"God in heaven bless you, good friend of ours!" said Wat, stooping to
kiss the rough brave woman who had so loyally helped them, "till we can
all be happy together in our own country."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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