Philip Rollo; or, the Scottish Musketeers, Vol. 1 (of 2)Grant, James
General
Philip Rollo; or, the Scottish Musketeers, Vol. 1 (of 2)
Grant, James
Thirty Years' War, 1618-1648 -- Fiction
From an eminent armourer in the Castlegate of the Brave Town of
Aberdeen, I had purchased a suit of plain but well-tempered armour,
such as a gentleman might wear, and such as no gentleman could be
without in those days, before the wars of the Covenant. It consisted
of back and breast plates, curiously inlaid with many rare and quaint
devices; steel gloves, arm-pieces, a gorget and open helmet, with
three iron bars, to protect the face from sword-cuts. As leg-pieces
had now gone out of fashion, and withal I was to wear a kilt like my
comrades, tassettes were not required. I had a good pair of our
Scottish pistols, with iron butts, a back sword and dagger. These
cost me many pounds Scots, all of which I had saved, with some
trouble, from the small sums sent me by my poor mother, per the
favour of John Mucklecuits, the Aberdeen carrier.
On receiving the letter of Ian, I showed it to my father, and so
strong was his silly prejudice against me, that he said--with an
unmoved aspect which stung me to the soul--he feared much I would
never return again; for my uncle Philip, whose mouth was too small
for the spoon of Sir Ringan, never again darkened the door of his
father, and so forth; but, having pledged my word to our kinsman, I
must march, or rather sail for Low Germanie, whither his blessing
would assuredly follow me.
Filled with ardour at the prospect before me, and the life of wild
and warlike adventure, happiness, and pleasure (for such I deemed
it,) on which I was about to enter, I spent my whole time in putting
on and taking off my harness, polishing the pieces, burnishing the
handles of my sword and Glasgow pistols, until they shone like
silver; and I hailed with joy the appearance of two of our Scottish
ships of war, which, on rising from bed one morning, I saw at anchor
in the Firth of Cromartie. The early dawn was beautiful, and I
remember well how gallantly those vessels rode, with their heads to
the wind, and the pennons of St. Andrew streaming astern.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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