The Raiders: Being Some Passages In The Life Of John Faa, Lord And Earl Of Little Egypt
hearing what the pair of old randy wives had to say to me for leading their precious sons astray was like gall and wormwood.
THE BOAT WAS coming quickly in, and I could see that Mistress Allison, who had the steering, knew nothing at all of the matter, so that the boat, in spite of the efforts of the rowers, was in danger of being carried past the landing-place on the northward side where the beautiful beaches of shell-sand are.
Now, though I wished the whole crew far enough, yet I did not want a drowning match on the Rathan heuchs, so I ran down alone, the better to pilot them in. The lads had fled; and, indeed, their room was better than their company. Only little Jerry MacWhirter sat calmly finishing his perspective drawing on the hilltop.
‘Tell my mither I’ll be doon the noo!’ he cried after me as I ran. But I thought he was joking, and went on without reply.
At last the keep grated on the beach, and I pulled the boat ashore. Even as I did so the daft Maxwell lass that I was so angry with unshipped her oar, put her hand on my shoulder, and leaped on the shingle like a young goat. The two old wives were speechless with black anger.
‘Good-day to you, Mistress Allison and Mistress MacWhirter, and to you, May Maxwell,’ I said, lifting my bonnet to each, and speaking as I ought, just to show that I was none so rough and landward.
‘Guid-day to ye, Adullam!’ says she; but the two old wives said neither ‘Fair-guid-e’en’ nor ‘Fair-guid-day’, but only sat and gloomed and better gloomed. I stood at the side of the boat to offer them a hand; but Mistress Allison waved me away, and asked the great stot of a farm lad that was at the oar to jump out and help them ashore.
‘No, an’ I’ll no, eyther!’ said that youth, pleasantly. ‘Wull Maxwell said that I was to bide by the boat – an’ so I’ll bide. Ye can loup!’
So help he would not. But he was willing to give his reasons.
‘Wull is my maister, an’ he’s a man to be mindit, I’m tellin’ ye!’ he said, and that was all they could get out of him.
So the old wives, who could have eaten all they liked of me with pleasure and ease, had perforce to accept my helping hand to get them out of the boat, which had grounded high on the shell-sand and now coggled upon an uneven keel.
‘Think on the honour o’t, Mistress Allison,’ cried that randy lass May Maxwell, standing with her hands on her sides and her elbows crooked out in a fashion of her own. (I cannot think what made me notice these things, for I fair hated the lass.) ‘Think,’ says she, ‘on the honour of being handed oot by a laird on his ain grund, or raither a prince in his ain kingdom, for a’ this isle will belong to his lordship. Ye’re a big woman the day, Mistress MacWhirter!’ And she pretended to look about grandly, as though taking in a prospect of wide dominions.
But never a word said I out loud, but in to myself I kept saying, ‘Ill-tongued hizzy!’ And that I said over and over.
But she was not yet done and went on, ‘Is’t a captain or a general ye are, Adullam? My memory’s failin’. I think ye mentioned it the last time ye were ower by at Craigdarroch. Or is it nothing less than to be a king that’ll serve ye? My faith,’ she added, looking round, ‘I’m thinkin’ that your standing airmy’s a’ run awa’!’
She laughed elvishly here, though I, that am as full of appreciation of humour as any man, could see nothing whatever to laugh at.
‘Here’s the standing airmy, Mistress May Mischief!’ cried Jerry MacWhirter, upstanding as bold as brass on the edge of the sea cliff which rose above the white sands of the bay.
‘Guid mornin’ to ye, mither,’ he said, lifting his blue bonnet politely; ‘and my service to you, Mistress Allison. Your son Andrew sent his love till ye.’
‘Ye impudent vaigabond!’
At the word both of the women made a rush at him with so angry a countenance that, though a man grown, with (some) hair on my face, I gave back a pace myself. But as for little Jerry, he never turned a hair, but only sat down on the edge of the cliff, looking now at the group and now at his drawing. It was as pretty as a play.
‘Dinna be in a hurry, mither,’ he said; ‘it’s bad for the disjeestion; an’ this bank’s ower steep for twenty stone, Mistress Allison. Try roon to the left. There’s a bonnier road there.’
His mother’s tongue got vent.
‘Ye sorra’ and vexation,’ she cried, ‘ye disgrace to a’ oor hoose, that was aye decent grocers! Wait till I get ye hame. I’ll wile ye hame wi’ the strong hand, my lad, and lay on ye wi’ a stout stick when I get ye there. Ye shall suffer for this if there’s hazel oil in Dumfries, gibin’ an’ jeerin’ at your ain blood-kin.’
Little Jerry had a piece of paper on his knee, and he made marks on it with a callevine as if he were drawing a map. I admired greatly to see him.
‘Na, mither,’ he said; ‘nae ill word did I ever speak to you, or aboot you. I did but advise ye for your health no to excite or overexert yersel’, for, as ye ken, Doctor Douglas tells ye that it’s ill for the bowel complaint. But my respects to my stepfaither the Doctor. I hope ye left him weel.’
‘I tell ye that as sure as my name’s Sarah MacWhirter, ye’ll get sic a lickin’ as ye’ll no get ower for a month when ye come back to Dumfries. I’ll get the burgh hangman to attend to ye, gin I haena the strength o’ airm to gar ye lowp mysel’.’
At this fearful threat I looked for Jerry to lower his colours, but he seemed more than usual calm, and turned his head sideways to look this way and that at his map, like a wild bird on a bough when it is not sure about you.
‘Na, mither, lickin’s dune noo! It’s a’ by wi’,’ says he; ‘so it’s no for me to say whether or no yer name’s properly Sarah MacWhirter or Sarah Douglas. I wasna at either o’ your waddin’s – at least, that I mind o’ – but whether or no, strap, taws, birk, an’ hazel, are a’ by wi’; and I’ll come nae mair hame till ye promise to let me alane.’
‘Ye ken, richt weel, ye vaigabond, that ye wad be let alane. Aye, an’ made muckle o’ gin ye wad consent to be a decent grocer in the Wynd, an’ succeed yer faither in the shop.’
‘Na, mither, I’ll never be grocer nor yet chandler. The provision line is a guid trade, but it’s no for me. I was aye that hungrysome that I wad eat a’ the profits. I wad cadge keel first, mither, like Silver Sand. Can ye no let me alane?’
His mother and Mistress Allison, quite aghast at the turn affairs were taking, had retreated, and were for making their way up the cliff by themselves. May Mischief had gone back again to the boat, and was lifting something heavy out of it. I went down to help her, for I never could abide to see a woman do man’s work, even if I had reason to dislike her, as I had right good reason to do this lass from Craigdarroch; though, to tell truth, I had some better reasons also to think well of her, as I owned to myself, remembering the night by the tomb of the MacLurgs in the kirkyard of Kirk Oswald.
Then I heard little Jerry say from his post on the top of the cliff, ‘Might I trouble ye, Mistress Allison, juist to stan’ still till I get your figure drawed? It disna look bonny withoot the head, especially as I hadna aneuch paper to mak’ your feet.’
I began to see that though Jerry might be an exceedingly useful ally with the tongue, his answers, though soft enough to satisfy Solomon himself, were not such as to turn away wrath. On the contrary, if the two ladies were angry when they came seeking their sons on my island, Jerry had made them ten times worse now.
All this time I was helping May Maxwell out of the boat