Part 51 (1/2)
CHAPTER X.
What ho, my jovial mates! come on! we'll frolic it Like fairies frisking in the merry moons.h.i.+ne, Seen by the curtal friar, who, from some christening Or some blithe bridal, hies belated cell-ward-- He starts, and changes his bold bottle swagger To churchman's pace professional, and, ransacking His treacherous memory for some holy hymn, Finds but the roundel of the midnight catch.
_Old Play._
The stride of the Udaller relaxed nothing of its length or of its firmness as he approached the glimmering cabin, from which he now heard distinctly the sound of the fiddle. But, if still long and firm, his steps succeeded each other rather more slowly than usual; for, like a cautious, though a brave general, Magnus was willing to reconnoitre his enemy before a.s.sailing him. The trusty Laurence Scholey, who kept close behind his master, now whispered into his ear, ”So help me, sir, as I believe that the ghaist, if ghaist it be, that plays so bravely on the fiddle, must be the ghaist of Maister Claud Halcro, or his wraith at least; for never was bow drawn across thairm which brought out the gude auld spring of 'Fair and Lucky,' so like his ain.”
Magnus was himself much of the same opinion; for he knew the blithe minstrelsy of the spirited little old man, and hailed the hut with a hearty hilloah, which was immediately replied to by the cheery note of his ancient messmate, and Halcro himself presently made his appearance on the beach.
The Udaller now signed to his retinue to come up, while he asked his friend, after a kind greeting and much shaking of hands, ”How the devil he came to sit there, playing old tunes in so desolate a place, like an owl whooping to the moon?”
”And tell me rather, Fowd,” said Claud Halcro, ”how you came to be within hearing of me? ay, by my word, and with your bonny daughters, too?--Jarto Minna and Jarto Brenda, I bid you welcome to these yellow sands--and there shake hands, as glorious John, or some other body, says, upon the same occasion. And how came you here like two fair swans, making day out of twilight, and turning all you step upon to silver?”
”You shall know all about them presently,” answered Magnus; ”but what messmates have you got in the hut with you? I think I hear some one speaking.”
”None,” replied Claud Halcro, ”but that poor creature, the Factor, and my imp of a boy Giles. I--but come in--come in--here you will find us starving in comfort--not so much as a mouthful of sour sillocks to be had for love or money.”
”That may be in a small part helped,” said the Udaller; ”for though the best of our supper is gone over the Fitful Crags to the sealchies and the dog-fish, yet we have got something in the kit still.--Here, Laurie, bring up the _vifda_.”
”_Jokul, jokul!_”[23] was Laurence's joyful answer; and he hastened for the basket.
”By the bicker of Saint Magnus,”[24] said Halcro, ”and the burliest bishop that ever quaffed it for luck's sake, there is no finding your locker empty, Magnus! I believe sincerely that ere a friend wanted, you could, like old Luggie the warlock, fish up boiled and roasted out of the pool of Kibster.”[25]
”You are wrong there, Jarto Claud,” said Magnus Troil, ”for far from helping me to a supper, the foul fiend, I believe, has carried off great part of mine this blessed evening; but you are welcome to share and share of what is left.” This was said while the party entered the hut.
Here, in a cabin which smelled strongly of dried fish, and whose sides and roof were jet-black with smoke, they found the unhappy Triptolemus Yellowley seated beside a fire made of dried sea-weed, mingled with some peats and wreck-wood; his sole companion a barefooted, yellow-haired Zetland boy, who acted occasionally as a kind of page to Claud Halcro, bearing his fiddle on his shoulder, saddling his pony, and rendering him similar duties of kindly observance. The disconsolate agriculturist, for such his visage betokened him, displayed little surprise, and less animation, at the arrival of the Udaller and his companions, until, after the party had drawn close to the fire, (a neighbourhood which the dampness of the night air rendered far from disagreeable,) the pannier was opened, and a tolerable supply of barley-bread and hung beef, besides a flask of brandy, (no doubt smaller than that which the relentless hand of Pacolet had emptied into the ocean,) gave a.s.surances of a tolerable supper. Then, indeed, the worthy Factor grinned, chuckled, rubbed his hands, and enquired after all friends at Burgh-Westra.
When they had all partaken of this needful refreshment, the Udaller repeated his enquiries of Halcro, and more particularly of the Factor, how they came to be nestled in such a remote corner at such an hour of night.
”Maister Magnus Troil,” said Triptolemus, when a second cup had given him spirits to tell his tale of woe, ”I would not have you think that it is a little thing that disturbs me. I came of that grain that takes a sair wind to shake it. I have seen many a Martinmas and many a Whitsunday in my day, whilk are the times peculiarly grievous to those of my craft, and I could aye bide the bang; but I think I am like to be dung ower a'thegither in this d.a.m.ned country of yours--Gude forgie me for swearing--but evil communication corrupteth good manners.”
”Now, Heaven guide us,” said the Udaller, ”what is the matter with the man? Why, man, if you will put your plough into new land, you must look to have it hank on a stone now and then--You must set us an example of patience, seeing you come here for our improvement.”
”And the deil was in my feet when I did so,” said the Factor; ”I had better have set myself to improve the cairn on Clochnaben.”
”But what is it, after all,” said the Udaller, ”that has befallen you?--what is it that you complain of?”
”Of every thing that has chanced to me since I landed on this island, which I believe was accursed at the very creation,” said the agriculturist, ”and a.s.signed as a fitting station for sorners, thieves, wh.o.r.es, (I beg the ladies' pardon,) witches, b.i.t.c.hes, and all evil spirits!”
”By my faith, a goodly catalogue!” said Magnus; ”and there has been the day, that if I had heard you give out the half of it, I should have turned improver myself, and have tried to amend your manners with a cudgel.”
”Bear with me,” said the Factor, ”Maister Fowd, or Maister Udaller, or whatever else they may call you, and as you are strong be pitiful, and consider the luckless lot of any inexperienced person who lights upon this earthly paradise of yours. He asks for drink, they bring him sour whey--no disparagement to your brandy, Fowd, which is excellent--You ask for meat, and they bring you sour sillocks that Satan might choke upon--You call your labourers together, and bid them work; it proves Saint Magnus's day, or Saint Ronan's day, or some infernal saint or other's--or else, perhaps, they have come out of bed with the wrong foot foremost, or they have seen an owl, or a rabbit has crossed their path, or they have dreamed of a roasted horse--in short, nothing is to be done--Give them a spade, and they work as if it burned their fingers; but set them to dancing, and see when they will tire of funking and flinging!”
”And why should they, poor bodies,” said Claud Halcro, ”as long as there are good fiddlers to play to them?”
”Ay, ay,” said Triptolemus, shaking his head, ”you are a proper person to uphold them in such a humour. Well, to proceed:--I till a piece of my best ground; down comes a st.u.r.dy beggar that wants a kailyard, or a plant-a-cruive, as you call it, and he claps down an enclosure in the middle of my bit shot of corn, as lightly as if he was baith laird and tenant; and gainsay him wha likes, there he dibbles in his kail-plants!
I sit down to my sorrowful dinner, thinking to have peace and quietness there at least; when in comes one, two, three, four, or half-a-dozen of skelping long lads, from some foolery or anither, misca' me for barring my ain door against them, and eat up the best half of what my sister's providence--and she is not over bountiful--has allotted for my dinner!
Then enters a witch, with an ellwand in her hand, and she raises the wind or lays it, whichever she likes, majors up and down my house as if she was mistress of it, and I am bounden to thank Heaven if she carries not the broadside of it away with her!”