Part 8

"'Oh, then, if you can't come to me, I must go and fetch you!' A boat, well manned, soon pushed off from the pirates, and in a few minutes dashed alongside of us. The first man who boarded us was the captain, as ferocious-looking a monster as I ever beheld; and his followers, who swarmed up the side after him, were, in appearance, worthy of their leader. They rushed on board with cries of exultation and rage, brandishing their cutlasses, and shouting, 'Down with them!' 'Cut them down, and make an end of them at once!' And they were proceeding to put their threats into execution, when they were checked in a moment by the loud and commanding tones of the captain. 'Stand back, all of you! I'll shoot the first man that lays a hand upon them! No, no, my lads; it would be letting the rascals off too cheap to kill them at once; we'll despatch them in pairs at a time; there are twelve of them, so we shall have six days' sport instead of one.' This proposal was received with shouts of savage joy by the crew. 'We'll keep these two till the last,' continued he, pointing to the mate and myself, 'that they may have the pleasure of seeing all their comrades walk the plank before them. But, come my lads, be smart; we have no time to lose; put all these fellows on board our little hooker; and then we'll see what's to be done below.' We were all immediately forced into the boat, and rowed on board the brig, where some of us were put in irons, and others lashed to ringbolts on the deck. The boat then returned, and the work of plunder commenced; and for some hours the pirate crew were busily employed in transferring to the brig all the valuables they could lay their hands upon on board the Delight. When they had taken everything available, they scuttled the ship, and left her, and obliged us, with many taunts and blows, to watch for the catastrophe. It was a heartrending sight to us all to see our gallant little ship gradually settling in the water, rolling deep and uneasily, till at last, after a heavy lurch, she dipped her bulwarks low into the water, and, struggling in vain to recover herself, sank to rise no more. A groan of horror burst from us all; we felt as if our last connecting link with humanity was broken; we were left powerless in the hands of monsters in human form, but with the spirit of demons. Alas! our fears were but too well verified: that very evening two of our poor shipmates, after having been tormented in the most savage manner, were blindfolded, and compelled to walk out upon a plank launched from the gangway, from the end of which they fell into the sea, shrieking with horror as they fell. As their bodies plunged heavily into the smooth water, the captain turned to us with a savage sneer, and said--

"'They were too well fed by half; when it comes to your turn, you won't make such a disturbance amongst the fishes.'

"But why need I dwell longer upon these horrors? For five succeeding days, the same murderous scene was enacted; we were fed on bread and water, and tormented in every way that cruelty could suggest, and then had the horror of witnessing the death of our companions, and of anticipating the same cruel fate for ourselves. At last the mate and I were the only survivors, and we were brought to the gangway, to mount the same fatal plank which had been the instrument of death to our unfortunate shipmates. Our eyes were blindfolded, and, weak and exhausted as we were, we looked forward to death as an easy and happy release from our miseries. We bade each other farewell.

"'Our murderers allow us one blessing, Rogers,' said I--'to die together.'

"That remark saved my life.

"'A blessing is it?' exclaimed the captain; 'then it's one that I'll be hanged if you enjoy. You shall go to the devil by yourself. Take the handkerchief off that sentimental gentleman's eyes, and let him see his dear friend take a leap in the dark. He can moralise about it till to-morrow evening.'

"Poor Rogers! I did indeed feel deserted, when the sullen plunge announced that the sea had closed over its prey! To this refinement in cruelty on the part of the pirate, however, I eventually owed my deliverance. Slowly and painfully did the first hours of that night pass over my head. My thoughts constantly recurred to the horrors I had witnessed, and to the dreadful doom that awaited me on the morrow. The tears filled my eyes as I prayed for forgiveness of my past sins, and for strength to support me through the coming trial. The brig was tumbling about on the almost calm sea, with all sails furled, except the topgallantsail, which by some chance had broken adrift, and the crew, not excepting the look-out man, were all asleep, when all at once the report of a gun came booming over the water. The sound acted like magic upon the slumbering crew--they were on the alert in a moment--the sails were set with wonderful quickness--the sweeps were manned, and the little schooner rippling through the water. Next morning we had distanced the stranger considerably, and the pirate was in great hopes of escaping; but the breeze freshened, and before noon the frigate, for such she proved to be, had gained so much upon us, that her shot began to tell upon us. I was now hurried below, and a sentry was placed over me; the captain ordering him to blow my brains out if I attempted to escape, and adding, 'I'll settle his account by and by.' It was with impatience almost amounting to agony that I listened to the strange medley of sounds which reached my ear--the creaking of the sweeps, the curses and shouts of our crew cheering each other at their work, the loud report of our guns, and the more faint and distant sound of those of the frigate; and I prayed for deliverance--prayed that some lucky ball might find its way into the cabin, and put an end to my suspense and to my miseries at once. At last the sound of the sweeps ceased. I heard the rattling of blocks and the sound of running feet. I felt, by the motion of the vessel, that some alteration was made in her course, and then--I burst into tears--I heard a voice hailing the brig! I felt that the hour of my deliverance was at hand, and I breathed a prayer of silent thankfulness to Heaven. Again there was a movement on deck, the brig laid over to the breeze, and a loud shout burst from her crew, as they discharged the guns. Merciful powers! she had escaped; and my spirit sank within me. But the avenger of blood was behind us, and his voice spoke in the thunder of his guns. I heard a crash upon deck, then the noise of something coming down from aloft, followed by the muttered curses of my sentry, as he exclaimed, 'The gaff is gone!' The report of the frigate's guns now became louder and louder, and the little brig absolutely staggered, when the grape-shot rattled against her sides. Her crew, however, seemed to be fighting with the desperation of madmen, for they maintained a warm fire. At last all was silent on board; the firing ceased, and not even a voice could be heard. Presently I heard the dash of oars; then the grating of a boat against the vessel's side; then loud and angry voices, and afterwards all the sounds of a desperate conflict. I looked up the companion--my sentinel had deserted his post, to join in the fray. I saw the boat's crew of the frigate engaged in a deadly struggle with the pirates. I rushed over to them, and had just joined them, calling for help, when the pirate captain seized me by the shoulder, and raised his tomahawk to cleave me to the deck. Weak as I was, I must have fallen a victim to his fury, had not a gallant sailor rushed between us, and inflicted a severe wound upon his upraised arm. I saw my brave deliverer fall immediately afterwards by a pistol-shot; but he was well avenged; for the next moment the pirate fell lifeless on his body. I saw no more. I was carried, in a state of insensibility, on board the frigate, and it was long before I recovered from the effects of my severe discipline on board the pirate. As soon as I was sufficiently recovered, I wished to hasten homewards immediately; but I was obliged to remain, to give evidence against the crew of the piratical brig, all of whom, with the exception of three or four, suffered the extreme penalties of the law. And now, my dear father, my tale is at an end, and grateful am I to the merciful Providence which has restored me to your arms."

"My dear, dear son!--doubly endeared to me by the dangers you have undergone on my account--I am thankful that my altered fortunes now enable me to gratify what I know to be the dearest wish of your heart. Go to her, John--go to Miss Winterton--she is worthy of you: no longer restrained by the clog of poverty, you may freely indulge the feelings of your heart."

As the father and son were walking along the road, they saw two men approaching them at some distance.

"Whom have we here?" said John Hamilton.

"One of them is old Willie Duncan, a cottar of mine; and who the lame man is that is with him I know not. By the by, I heard that his son was returned from sea; perhaps that's the man."

Willie Duncan respectfully saluted his master, when he approached, and said--

"I was just bringing my son to----"

"Good heavens!" exclaimed John Hamilton, gazing earnestly at the disabled man; "it cannot be--yes, it is--my brave deliverer! My gallant fellow," continued he, shaking him heartily by the hand, "how rejoiced I am to see you, and to have an opportunity to prove my gratitude to you! I heard you were dead--how did you escape?"

"Why, blow me, your honour, if you didn't take me quite aback. I couldn't make you out at first--you're twice the man you were when I see'd you on the pirate's deck; and I'd never no thoughts of falling in with you so near home. I'm right glad, however, to see your honour once more."

"Duncan," said Hamilton, senior, with a trembling voice, "I owe you a debt I can never repay. You lost your limb in saving the life of my son--it shall be my endeavour to make the loss to you as light as possible."

"And is the gentleman the son of my father's good master? Then a fig for the leg!--it couldn't have been lost in a better cause. And, as for gratitude, sir, you owe me none; his honour, here, would have done the same for me, if the case had been reversed, like--if he'd been the sailor, and I'd been the gemman."

"Well, well, my good fellow--no doubt--we won't argue on that point; only tell me how I can serve you, and I will do so, to the best of my ability."

"Why, your honour, I wants for nothing just now. I've got a lot of prize-money, and my father's snug roadstead to anchor in; but, if your honour likes to give me a few ounces of baccy, I won't say but what I'll be obligated to you."

"A modest request, certainly," said Mr Hamilton, laughing; "but we must give you something better than tobacco, and as much of that as you like into the bargain. Come, William, as your son won't speak, you must do so for him. Tell me how I can best serve him."

A whispering consultation here took place between father and son, which was put a stop to by the latter addressing Mr Hamilton in a sheepish, confused manner, twirling his hat in his hands at the same time, and feeling the rim all around, as if to ascertain that it was all there.

"Why, your honour, as your honour's so kind----Blow'd if I can speak about it, father! You see, your honour, I'm a first-rate hand at a yarn on a Saturday night; but, somehow, my jawing-tacks gets all bedevilled when I begins to speak about _she_."

"And who's she?" said Mr Hamilton, laughing--"some old sweetheart that has been waiting for you?"

"Why, it's bonny Jean Cameron that was when I went away. She's a widow now, your honour, and, as I wants to be spliced, and she's no objection, why, if it's not making too bold, if your honour would let us have one of your empty cottages, we'd join company at once, and sail together for the rest of our cruise."

We need hardly say that the sailor's request was cheerfully granted; and in a few weeks he and his wife were happily settled in a neat cottage, comfortably and substantially furnished by Mr Hamilton, who likewise settled upon him an annuity, sufficient to keep him from want, but not so large as to encourage habits of idleness or dissapation. John Hamilton was equally successful in his suit; and his union with Ellen Winterton proved that those who have been tried by adversity are best qualified to enjoy prosperity.

THE PROFESSOR'S TALES.

THE THREE BRETHREN.

"Together such as brethren are, In unity to dwell."

The unity of the three brethren about whom I am going to speak is complete: some are united in heart and soul, but these are united in body and frame: closer than the Siamese twins did their union abide, till, in an evil hour, the winds smote them, and they were no more--"_Sed stat nominis umbra._" They have left behind them a name and a record which will not soon perish. They might have said--had speaking been at all their forte--with Horace, "_Non omnis moriar."_ They shall live in the recollection of the present, and in the records of future times--at least it will not be from want of will, if the pages of the "Tales of the Borders" do not transmit their memorial to late posterity. The three brethren! you exclaim, quite naturally enough. What! were they brothers by blood or by marriage--brothers in profession--or, like Simeon and Levi, in iniquity? We should like to see the mist cleared away, and the subject made tangible. Well, listen!

The three brethren were three trees, or rather divisions of one tree--as like each other as one pea is to another--which once stood in the middle of the high road from Glasgow to Dumfries, upon the banks of the Nith. People had it that their similarity was so great that it reached the details of their branches, and even leaves, and that they were in every--even in the minutest--respect copies or fac-similes of each other. Nobody living--and far less any one dead--can tell their age. They saw Oliver Cromwell and his saintly crew march into Scotland; and beheld, in later times, the Highland host, in the year '45, pass along. They might have given an old chronicle of ancient times and manners, had it not been that they probably did not outlive the age of Methuselah. But

"Improvisa vis lethi rapuit Rapietque gentes."

Destruction came in the shape of a nor'wester, and they are now in the act of being converted into snuff-boxes, writing-desks, and dressing-cases, for their old and attached acquaintances and friends; every one seems more anxious than another to obtain a relic of the immortal triumvirate--and they are more likely to be remembered with pleasurable feelings than even were the Triumvirates of ancient Rome. But now that they have bowed their heads, and given up their roots, it is proper that some effort should be made to perpetuate their memory; and who so fit as an old Closeburn man to execute this bold but praiseworthy task?

The explanation, however, requires a glance at the race of gipsies, one of whom thus characterises the race:--

"My bonny lass, I work in brass-- A tinkler is my station-- I've travell'd round all Christian ground In this my occupation.

I've ta'en the gold--I've been enroll'd In many a noble squadron-- In vain they search'd, when off I march'd, To go and clout the caldron."

The gipsies have now disappeared entirely from the north of Scotland; even in Fife, the former residence of the gipsy clan Jamphrey, no such variety of the species is to be found. Their chief residence, as we have had occasion to say before, is now on the Borders, where, in the village of Yetholm, and in Langtown, they still maintain a separate clanship. They still are, and have always been, extremely jealous of the marriage of any of their daughters, in particular, out of the tribe. Hence the fact, that almost every third person amongst them labours under some mental peculiarity or defect. Their male youths enjoy greater latitude; yet, on their alliance with the Philistine fair, they are usually looked down upon, and regarded as a kind of amphibious race, who, like the "Proselytes of the Gate" amongst the Jews, were not admitted into equal communion. Their children are brought up (at least were so, till of late) in the most religious contempt of the alphabet. Nor are any moral principles inculcated, beyond successful thieving--that is, downright knavery--and dexterity of execution as workmen, whether it be in forming a ram's horn into a cutty spoon, or in appropriating the fattest hens from the farmer's bauks. Their women, too, are expert fortunetellers, and have husbands ready-made for sixpence. They are a fearful, fearless race, wandering about, in former times, almost during the whole year, and pitching their tents--in other words, setting their asses to graze, and themselves to forage--wherever solitude or the tolerance of the laird or farmer will permit their presence. When Scotland, in general, and Dumfries-shire in particular, from Criffell to Corsincon, were densely covered with natural wood, these people divided the woodland with the fox, the boar, and the wolf, and were extremely expert in noosing hares, rabbits, and polecats. Theirs was the bow, and ultimately the long-barrelled gun, for securing the fowls of heaven; and the set line, liester, and fishing-rod for the tenants of the water.

As was the case with the Roman of old--"_Patres ad insignem deformitatem puerum cito necaverunt;_" in other words, and in a different tongue, they put their diseased and deformed offspring to death; and more than one-half of those which were permitted to survive were killed in a year or two by harsh usage, cold, and imperfect clothing. Thus their youth which did survive these manifold trials and risks rose up into man and womanhood, proud, hardy, strong, well-seasoned plants, exhibiting much muscular power and symmetry in the male, and occasionally uncommon beauty and figure in the female form.

The "wild gazelle exulting" and bounding on the hills of Judah was not more elastic in its motion, nor penetrating and fascinating in its glance, than were many of the fairer wives and daughters of these hordes of part mendicant, part predatory, and part artist wanderers. Their chief resorts, in ancient times, were to the banks of the Hermitage and Slitterick, near Hawick; to the banks of the Dee, near Kirkcudbright; and, above and beyond all, to the woods of Colliston, and the linns of Balachun, on the Nith, in Dumfries-shire; and it is to this last locality that the following narrative particularly refers.

It was about the middle of the month of October that a packman, or pedlar, with an enormous chest laid transverse on his shoulders, was seen wending his way up the banks of the Nith, from Manchester to Glasgow. He had hoped to have reached Thornhill, then an exceedingly small village, before dusk; but this being his first migration in this direction, he found himself so surrounded and obstructed by the river Nith on the one hand, the linns of Balachun on the other, and an almost impenetrable wood in front, that night came upon him, dark and moonless, whilst still pushing his way through brambles, thorns, and every species of tangling and perplexing underwood. At last, despairing of extricating himself, and terrified, at the same time, by the roaring of waters, howling of wild beasts, and hooting of owls, he extricated his shoulders from the pack-bands, and, selecting as dry and soft an apartment as circumstances permitted, he set himself down on the grassy turf, with a birch branch for his canopy, and the old stump of a tree for his lean. In a little time he was alarmed by the cries of what appeared to be a child in the act of being cruelly murdered. Mungo Clark (for such was the packman's name) rose, and, advancing a few steps in the direction of the now faintly-emitted sounds, found a hare in the act of expiring of strangulation by means of a noose, or girn, formed of strong wire, and placed so as to intercept a little footpath made by the feet of the wild animals of the forest. Mungo was in the act of disengaging the dead creature from its executioner, the noose, when he heard the rustling as if of a lion on the spring, very near him, and all at once he found himself in the iron grip of a customer with whom he had no wish, on this occasion at least, to deal.

"And wha are ye," were the sounds which, in a hollow and harsh tone, first greeted his ears--"and wha are ye, man, wha hae made yer bed this dark night wi' the howlets and the wull-cats--ye wha meddle wi' what naething concerns ye, and burn yer fingers in ither folk's kail-pats? Speak, man, and dinna keep me blethering here, for I hae got ither fish to fry, I trow, than standing here palavering wi' sic as you--come, speak, body, or I'll send ye, pack an' a', sixty yards lower into the bumbling pool o' Balachun Linn."

Mungo Clark was neither soldier nor belted knight, nor was he armed for any deadly conflict; but he was not accustomed to submit without resentment to such rough usage.

"Unhand me, rascal!" was the packman's reply; and making, at the same time, a lateral jerk, he twisted himself fairly out of the assailant's grasp.

A whistle was immediately set up, and in an instant our traveller was surrounded by four strong, ablebodied men, who immediately flashed the light side of a dark lantern full in his face.

"Oh ho!" said one of the newly-assembled assailants; "this is neither the deil, nor the factor, nor the wood-keeper, nor the old boy, Colliston himsel, but just plain Mungo Clark, Widow Clark o' Penpont's son, who has been at Manchester feathering his pack, for the first time, wi' all manner o' varieties; such as Bibles, psalm-books, ribands, shawls, and waistcoat-pieces. Why, by the flesh-pots o' Yetholm--and that's a terrible oath--we'll adopt Brother Clark into our number, and teach him how to snare game, and spear salmon, instead of drivelling away his time and strength under the pressure of a load" (trying to raise the pack) "which would break the back-bone of an elephant."