Читать книгу Inchbracken - Robert Cleland - Страница 7

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The rumble of the stage coach past the window died away down the street, and silence fell on the room we have been considering. The scratching of Roderick's pen could be heard in the stillness, save when lost in the momentary roar of a gust descending the chimney, followed by the hiss of its watery burden on the coals, or when a bar of 'The Lass o' Gowrie' escaped for an instant from the suppression in which it was held that the sermon might not be disturbed.

At length there sounded the shuffling of feet and the opening and closing of a door. A tap, and the door of their own room opened; and entered the beadle, Joseph Smiley, a little ferrety-looking man with sharp restless eyes, that seemed as though they would squint in their alert impatience to look at everything at once. His dress was a rusty black coat, like the old one of an undertaker's man, and a soiled white wisp of neckcloth. He took off with both hands a limp and sodden hat, streaming with moisture, and deposited it under the table, with a sort of deprecatory bow to Mary, as who should say, 'It is not strong enough to be treated in the usual way, let us lay it down tenderly.' Recovering, he turned to the door, and with an encouraging 'Come in, boy,' introduced a tall over-grown lad of seventeen, dressed in a fisherman's oilskin suit, from which the rain trickled in copious streams.

'I wuss ye gude e'en, mem an' sir,' said Joseph 'Though it's faar frae what I wad ca' a gude e'en mysel', an' deed an' it's juist a most terrible nicht, though nae doubt them 'at sent it kens best.--Ay, Sir! It was juist the powerfu' ca' o' duty 'at garred me lay by the drap parrich an' steer frae the ingle neuk this nicht. Here's a laddie come a' the gate frae Inverlyon, e'y tap o' the coach to fesh ye back wi' him to see his granny 'ats lyin' near hand her end.'

'But Inverlyon is fen miles off, and in another parish,' the minister was here able to interrupt, a matter not always to be obtained when Joseph held forth, for he loved the continuous sound of his own voice above every other noise.

'And why did they not get Mr. Watson, the minister of Inverlyon?' put in Mary; 'I am sure Mr. Watson would have gone at once, and he is so good and so kind a man.'

'Na, na, mem! Naebody 'at kens my granny wad ventur to bring Mester Watson in ower by her!' cried the fisher lad, casting aside his bashfulness, and steadying himself on the tall limbs on which he had been swaying to and fro. 'He bed in, whan a' the gude folk cam out, an' sae she'll hae nane o' him!'

'But why should you want to take Mr. Brown all that distance to-night? and a night like this? Has your grandmother some dreadful secret on her mind? And would not a writer be the best person to get?'

'Na, mem! na! There's nothing like that! My Granny's a godly auld wife, tho' maybe she's gye fraxious whiles, an' mony's the sair paipin' she's gi'en me; gin there was ocht to confess she kens the road to the Throne better nor maist. But ye see there's a maggit gotten intil her heid, an' she says she beut to testifee afore she gangs hence.'

'Ay! weel I wat,' said Joseph, swaying his head solemnly to and fro, 'she's a holy auld wife that same Luckie Corbet! an' I'm sure, minister, it'll be a preev'ledge to ye to resaive her testimony! She's rael zealous against Erastianism an' a' the sins in high places. I'm thinkin', sir, she's gye an' like thae covenanters lang syne, 'at Mester Dowlas was tellin' 's about whan he lectur'd up by on the Hurlstane Muir, about Jenny Geddes down Edinbro' way, an' mair sic like.'

'Ay! an' I'm thinkin' it's that auld carline, Jenny Geddes, 'at's raised a' the fash! My granny gaed to hear Mester Dowlas whan he preached among the whins down by the shore, an' oh, but he was bonny! An' a graand screed o' doctrine he gae us. For twa hale hours he preached an' expundet an' never drew breath, for a the wind was skirlin', an' the renn whiles skelpin' like wild. An' I'm thinkin' my granny's gotten her death o't a'. But oh! an' he was graand on Jenny Geddes! an' hoo she was a mither in Israel, an' hoo she up wi' the creepie an' heaved it at the Erastian's heid. An' my granny was juist fairly ta'en wi't a', an' she vooed she beut to be a mither in Israel tae, an' whan she gaed hame she out wi' the auld hugger 'at she keeps the bawbees in, aneath the hearth-stane, for to buy a creepie o' her ain,--she thocht a new ane wad be best for the Lord's wark,--an' she coupet the chair whaur hung her grave claes, 'at she airs fornent the fire ilka Saturday at e'en, an' out there cam a lowe, an' scorched a hole i' the windin' sheet, an' noo puir body we'll hae to hap her in her muckle tartan plaid. An' aiblins she'll be a' the warmer'e'y moulds for that. But, however, she says the sheet was weel waur'd, for the guid cause. An' syne she took til her bed, wi' a sair host, an' sma' winder, for there was a weet dub whaur she had been sittin' amang the whins. An' noo the host's settled on her that sair, she whiles canna draw her breath. Sae she says she maun let the creepie birlin' slide, but she beut to testifee afore some godly minister or she gangs hence. An' I'm fear'd, sir, ye maun hurry, for she's rael far through.'

Joseph listened with a groan of solemn approval. 'Oh, minister, but it's a high preev'lidge! an' I'm no grudgin' the weet an' the gutters comin' ower to fesh ye, forby the drap parrich growin' cauld at hame!' 'Roderick! It is impossible for you to go. Ten miles! and such a night! And then, think of kind Mr. Watson; how hurt he will be!'

Joseph sighed, and muttered under his breath about sojourners in Meshech, but Mr. Brown took no notice, and replied to his sister,--

'The coach will pass going down at seven to-morrow morning.'

'I'm fear'd, sir, ye'll be ower late by than. She'll maybe no live or mornin.' An' she canna thole waitin', my granny.'

'But we have no gig, you must remember, and I know the inn gig is away, so it cannot be helped,' replied Mary.

'I'm thinkin' sir,' suggested Joseph, 'Patey Soutar wad be wullen' to gie us his pownie, seein' its you. It's a sore nicht for the puir beast, but than there's the gude cause, an' ye'll no be forgettin' the ruch wather e'y pay, sir. Patey's pownie's a canny baste, an' sure-fittet e'y dark. Mony's the time he's brocht Patey safe hame, an' him wi' a drappie in's heid 'at garred him see no' that strecht afore him.'

'Yes,' returned the minister, with a patient shrug; 'and he won't run away with me, that's certain.' It was manifest he would have to go, reason or no reason. To reduce the question to one of common sense would have raised too many questions hard or inconvenient to answer; and as to his own comfort, he had long learned to yield that. In a popular movement the people who are wont to be led will sometimes drive by the mere force already communicated to their inertia, and the minister, accustomed to lead, will sometimes find himself pushed or driven by the very impulse he has himself originated.

Mary's remonstrances were in vain. She could only do her best towards arming her brother against the storm, and seeing that his mackintosh and plaid were securely wrapped around him. Considerate, as usual, for every one but himself, the minister offered the young fisherman shelter for the night, to await the morning coach, but that was declined with a 'Na na, sir! Shanks' naig diz fine for the like o' me. An' surely gin ye can thole the rough nicht, I'se do weel enough.'

Up the steep hill road that runs eastward from Glen Effick and gradually gains the upland moor dividing it from the sea, the two wayfarers floundered in the darkness. The water-courses being already choked with their hurrying floods, the road became the natural vent for the superfluous deluge, and had changed into a roaring torrent, carrying down stones and gravel in its course, and rendering travel against the stream both difficult and dangerous. The pony had full opportunity to prove his character for sagacity and sure-footedness, and he vindicated it triumphantly, for he kept on his way despite of all impediments, while poor Sandie, the fisher lad, found his footing give way and himself rolled over among the rattling stones more than once, when he would pick himself up again with a 'Hech sirse! but my hirdies are sair forfuchan.'

As they won their way upwards, the darkness grew less intense, and the flooding of the road less serious; but it was not till they had reached the level of the moorland looking straight out to sea, that they were able to realize the full fury of the tempest, which threatened each moment to catch them up in its arms and dash them to the ground. The rain, however, had abated, and there was refreshment in the salt keen breath of the distant sea. An occasional rift in the clouds let through a feeble glimmer, and as they staggered along they could make out the broken horizon line of the black tumbling waters.

A flash--and the distant boom of a gun. 'I'm thinkin', sir, there's a ship out yon'er. It's a sair nicht to be on the water.'

Presently another flash--and a rocket cleft its way aloft through the darkness, while the roar of the angry ocean, as they drew near, grew louder and louder.

They now began to descend from the higher level, encountering on the downward course a repetition of the perils and difficulty which had hindered their ascent. Their attention was fully engrossed in picking their steps and left them no leisure to observe other things. At the bottom of the hill there was a considerable breadth of flooded meadow, and there a wooden bridge half submerged spanned the flooded waters of the Effick, shivering in the boiling flood, and threatening to give way beneath them as they hurried across. They now found themselves on the sea road, level and well made, and their troubles or at least the dangers of the way were at an end.

And now for the first time they could realize the horror of the raging sea, with the great billows hurling themselves against the shore, and casting their sheets of foam high in the air, and drenching the road in showers of spray. Again they see the flash of a minute gun, but its voice is drowned in the tumult of the elements. The flash now, not as before, far out at sea--the ship was coming perilously near the shore.

'I'm fear'd they'll hae sair wark to win round Inverlyon pint, noo,' said Sandie; 'they're ower far in shore!'--'The Lord pity them!' he went on, as another flash showed the vessel to be still nearing the land. 'They're driftin' fair in for the Effick Mouth! The Lord hae mercy on their souls!'

'How is the tide to-night, Sandie?' the minister enquired. 'Do you think we can cross the mouth of the bay by the sands under the rocks? It will be wet, of course, with the spray from the waves, but we are too wet ourselves to mind that, and it saves full four miles of the way.'

'Na, sir! The sea's in the nicht, an' there's five feet o' water on the sands. We maun gang round.'

As they journeyed along, they twice again saw the flash of the signal guns; the second time the ship herself became visible, very near the shore, a helpless waif apparently, tossed on the summit of a mountain surge. The bulwarks, which showed as those of a large vessel, stood out black against the murky horizon for an instant, and then sank again among the tumbling waves. Two of her masts were gone, but the third entangled in the wreck of rigging, still held out. Presently there was a crash audible above the storm. Another, and they saw the ship impaled on the jagged rocks at the mouth of the bay. The furious billows rushed up after her, wave on wave, as if refusing to be baulked of their prey, washed over her from end to end, broke down the remaining mast, and shook and ground her among the rocks. A few cries were carried shoreward, shrill above the tempest, and then went out in the night. Another crash--and the wreck parted asunder and fell back into the sea, and was whirled away among the furious breakers, which tore it plank from plank, and strewed the relics of that goodly ship for miles along the shore.

It was wearing towards morning, and the wind was perceptibly falling when these wayfarers reached their destination. A candle burning in the window seemed the only sign of life in the whole slumbering town; and even that guttered and flickered low in its socket, an emblem of the life slowly burning itself out on the adjoining bed. A stentorious breathing, coming at irregular and ever-lengthening intervals, told that Sandie's granny was already setting out on her long journey--that she had closed her eyes for ever on all the things of time, even the ministrations of religion; and that the mysteries to which those ministrations can, at the best, but darkly point, would shortly be uncovered to her immortal view.

The minister was dried and warmed and refreshed, but there was little call for his services. The watchers were too weary with their watching to give much heed to consolation; he did, however, what was possible and retired to rest.