The Master of Ballantrae

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Whether he was stout enough or no, God knows he was kind enough.
Mrs. Henry had a manner of condescension with him, such as (in a
wife) would have pricked my vanity into an ulcer; he took it like a
favour. She held him at the staff's end; forgot and then
remembered and unbent to him, as we do to children; burthened him
with cold kindness; reproved him with a change of colour and a
bitten lip, like one shamed by his disgrace: ordered him with a
look of the eye, when she was off her guard; when she was on the
watch, pleaded with him for the most natural attentions, as though
they were unheard-of favours. And to all this he replied with the
most unwearied service, loving, as folk say, the very ground she
trod on, and carrying that love in his eyes as bright as a lamp.
When Miss Katharine was to be born, nothing would serve but he must
stay in the room behind the head of the bed. There he sat, as
white (they tell me) as a sheet, and the sweat dropping from his
brow; and the handkerchief he had in his hand was crushed into a
little ball no bigger than a musket-bullet. Nor could he bear the
sight of Miss Katharine for many a day; indeed, I doubt if he was
ever what he should have been to my young lady; for the which want
of natural feeling he was loudly blamed.

Such was the state of this family down to the 7th April, 1749, when
there befell the first of that series of events which were to break
so many hearts and lose so many lives.

On that day I was sitting in my room a little before supper, when
John Paul burst open the door with no civility of knocking, and
told me there was one below that wished to speak with the steward;
sneering at the name of my office.

I asked what manner of man, and what his name was; and this
disclosed the cause of John's ill-humour; for it appeared the
visitor refused to name himself except to me, a sore affront to the
major-domo's consequence.

"Well," said I, smiling a little, "I will see what he wants."

I found in the entrance hall a big man, very plainly habited, and
wrapped in a sea-cloak, like one new landed, as indeed he was.
Not, far off Macconochie was standing, with his tongue out of his
mouth and his hand upon his chin, like a dull fellow thinking hard;
and the stranger, who had brought his cloak about his face,
appeared uneasy. He had no sooner seen me coming than he went to
meet me with an effusive manner.

"My dear man," said he, "a thousand apologies for disturbing you,
but I'm in the most awkward position. And there's a son of a
ramrod there that I should know the looks of, and more betoken I
believe that he knows mine. Being in this family, sir, and in a
place of some responsibility (which was the cause I took the
liberty to send for you), you are doubtless of the honest party?"

"You may be sure at least," says I, "that all of that party are
quite safe in Durrisdeer."

"My dear man, it is my very thought," says he. "You see, I have
just been set on shore here by a very honest man, whose name I
cannot remember, and who is to stand off and on for me till
morning, at some danger to himself; and, to be clear with you, I am
a little concerned lest it should be at some to me. I have saved
my life so often, Mr. -, I forget your name, which is a very good
one - that, faith, I would be very loath to lose it after all. And
the son of a ramrod, whom I believe I saw before Carlisle . . . "

"Oh, sir," said I, "you can trust Macconochie until to-morrow."

"Well, and it's a delight to hear you say so," says the stranger.
"The truth is that my name is not a very suitable one in this
country of Scotland. With a gentleman like you, my dear man, I
would have no concealments of course; and by your leave I'll just
breathe it in your ear. They call me Francis Burke - Colonel
Francis Burke; and I am here, at a most damnable risk to myself, to
see your masters - if you'll excuse me, my good man, for giving
them the name, for I'm sure it's a circumstance I would never have
guessed from your appearance. And if you would just be so very
obliging as to take my name to them, you might say that I come
bearing letters which I am sure they will be very rejoiced to have
the reading of."

Colonel Francis Burke was one of the Prince's Irishmen, that did
his cause such an infinity of hurt, and were so much distasted of
the Scots at the time of the rebellion; and it came at once into my
mind, how the Master of Ballantrae had astonished all men by going
with that party. In the same moment a strong foreboding of the
truth possessed my soul.

"If you will step in here," said I, opening a chamber door, "I will
let my lord know."

"And I am sure it's very good of you, Mr. What-is-your-name," says
the Colonel.

Up to the hall I went, slow-footed. There they were, all three -
my old lord in his place, Mrs. Henry at work by the window, Mr.
Henry (as was much his custom) pacing the low end. In the midst
was the table laid for supper. I told them briefly what I had to
say. My old lord lay back in his seat. Mrs. Henry sprang up
standing with a mechanical motion, and she and her husband stared
at each other's eyes across the room; it was the strangest,
challenging look these two exchanged, and as they looked, the
colour faded in their faces. Then Mr. Henry turned to me; not to
speak, only to sign with his finger; but that was enough, and I
went down again for the Colonel.

When we returned, these three were in much the same position I same
left them in; I believe no word had passed.

"My Lord Durrisdeer, no doubt?" says the Colonel, bowing, and my
lord bowed in answer. "And this," continues the Colonel, "should
be the Master of Ballantrae?"

"I have never taken that name," said Mr. Henry; "but I am Henry
Durie, at your service."

Then the Colonel turns to Mrs. Henry, bowing with his hat upon his
heart and the most killing airs of gallantry. "There can be no
mistake about so fine a figure of a lady," says he. "I address the
seductive Miss Alison, of whom I have so often heard?"

Once more husband and wife exchanged a look.

"I am Mrs. Henry Durie," said she; "but before my marriage my name
was Alison Graeme."

Then my lord spoke up. "I am an old man, Colonel Burke," said he,
"and a frail one. It will be mercy on your part to be expeditious.
Do you bring me news of - " he hesitated, and then the words broke
from him with a singular change of voice - "my son?"

"My dear lord, I will be round with you like a soldier," said the
Colonel. "I do."

My lord held out a wavering hand; he seemed to wave a signal, but
whether it was to give him time or to speak on, was more than we
could guess. At length he got out the one word, "Good?"

"Why, the very best in the creation!" cries the Colonel. "For my
good friend and admired comrade is at this hour in the fine city of
Paris, and as like as not, if I know anything of his habits, he
will be drawing in his chair to a piece of dinner. - Bedad, I
believe the lady's fainting."

Mrs. Henry was indeed the colour of death, and drooped against the
window-frame. But when Mr. Henry made a movement as if to run to
her, she straightened with a sort of shiver. "I am well," she
said, with her white lips.

Mr. Henry stopped, and his face had a strong twitch of anger. The
next moment he had turned to the Colonel. "You must not blame
yourself," says he, "for this effect on Mrs. Durie. It is only
natural; we were all brought up like brother and sister."

Mrs. Henry looked at her husband with something like relief or even
gratitude. In my way of thinking, that speech was the first step
he made in her good graces.

"You must try to forgive me, Mrs. Durie, for indeed and I am just
an Irish savage," said the Colonel; "and I deserve to be shot for
not breaking the matter more artistically to a lady. But here are
the Master's own letters; one for each of the three of you; and to
be sure (if I know anything of my friend's genius) he will tell his
own story with a better grace."

He brought the three letters forth as he spoke, arranged them by
their superscriptions, presented the first to my lord, who took it
greedily, and advanced towards Mrs. Henry holding out the second.

But the lady waved it back. "To my husband," says she, with a
choked voice.

The Colonel was a quick man, but at this he was somewhat
nonplussed. "To be sure!" says he; "how very dull of me! To be
sure!" But he still held the letter.

At last Mr. Henry reached forth his hand, and there was nothing to
be done but give it up. Mr. Henry took the letters (both hers and
his own), and looked upon their outside, with his brows knit hard,
as if he were thinking. He had surprised me all through by his
excellent behaviour; but he was to excel himself now.

"Let me give you a hand to your room," said he to his wife. "This
has come something of the suddenest; and, at any rate, you will
wish to read your letter by yourself."

Again she looked upon him with the same thought of wonder; but he
gave her no time, coming straight to where she stood. "It will be
better so, believe me," said he; "and Colonel Burke is too
considerate not to excuse you." And with that he took her hand by
the fingers, and led her from the hall.

Mrs. Henry returned no more that night; and when Mr. Henry went to
visit her next morning, as I heard long afterwards, she gave him
the letter again, still unopened.

"Oh, read it and be done!" he had cried.

"Spare me that," said she.

And by these two speeches, to my way of thinking, each undid a
great part of what they had previously done well. But the letter,
sure enough, came into my hands, and by me was burned, unopened.

To be very exact as to the adventures of the Master after Culloden,
I wrote not long ago to Colonel Burke, now a Chevalier of the Order
of St. Louis, begging him for some notes in writing, since I could
scarce depend upon my memory at so great an interval. To confess
the truth, I have been somewhat embarrassed by his response; for he
sent me the complete memoirs of his life, touching only in places
on the Master; running to a much greater length than my whole
story, and not everywhere (as it seems to me) designed for
edification. He begged in his letter, dated from Ettenheim, that I
would find a publisher for the whole, after I had made what use of
it I required; and I think I shall best answer my own purpose and
fulfil his wishes by printing certain parts of it in full. In this
way my readers will have a detailed, and, I believe, a very genuine
account of some essential matters; and if any publisher should take
a fancy to the Chevalier's manner of narration, he knows where to
apply for the rest, of which there is plenty at his service. I put
in my first extract here, so that it may stand in the place of what
the Chevalier told us over our wine in the hall of Durrisdeer; but
you are to suppose it was not the brutal fact, but a very varnished
version that he offered to my lord.

CHAPTER III. - THE MASTER'S WANDERINGS.

FROM THE MEMOIRS OF THE CHEVALIER DE BURKE.

. . . I left Ruthven (it's hardly necessary to remark) with much
greater satisfaction than I had come to it; but whether I missed my
way in the deserts, or whether my companions failed me, I soon
found myself alone. This was a predicament very disagreeable; for
I never understood this horrid country or savage people, and the
last stroke of the Prince's withdrawal had made us of the Irish
more unpopular than ever. I was reflecting on my poor chances,
when I saw another horseman on the hill, whom I supposed at first
to have been a phantom, the news of his death in the very front at
Culloden being current in the army generally. This was the Master
of Ballantrae, my Lord Durrisdeer's son, a young nobleman of the
rarest gallantry and parts, and equally designed by nature to adorn
a Court and to reap laurels in the field. Our meeting was the more
welcome to both, as he was one of the few Scots who had used the
Irish with consideration, and as he might now be of very high
utility in aiding my escape. Yet what founded our particular
friendship was a circumstance, by itself as romantic as any fable
of King Arthur.

This was on the second day of our flight, after we had slept one
night in the rain upon the inclination of a mountain. There was an
Appin man, Alan Black Stewart (or some such name, (2) but I have
seen him since in France) who chanced to be passing the same way,
and had a jealousy of my companion. Very uncivil expressions were
exchanged; and Stewart calls upon the Master to alight and have it
out.

"Why, Mr. Stewart," says the Master, "I think at the present time I
would prefer to run a race with you." And with the word claps
spurs to his horse.

Stewart ran after us, a childish thing to do, for more than a mile;
and I could not help laughing, as I looked back at last and saw him
on a hill, holding his hand to his side, and nearly burst with
running.

"But, all the same," I could not help saying to my companion, "I
would let no man run after me for any such proper purpose, and not
give him his desire. It was a good jest, but it smells a trifle
cowardly."

He bent his brows at me. "I do pretty well," says he, "when I
saddle myself with the most unpopular man in Scotland, and let that
suffice for courage."

"O, bedad," says I, "I could show you a more unpopular with the
naked eye. And if you like not my company, you can 'saddle'
yourself on some one else."

"Colonel Burke," says he, "do not let us quarrel; and, to that
effect, let me assure you I am the least patient man in the world."

"I am as little patient as yourself," said I. "I care not who
knows that."

"At this rate," says he, reining in, "we shall not go very far.
And I propose we do one of two things upon the instant: either
quarrel and be done; or make a sure bargain to bear everything at
each other's hands."

"Like a pair of brothers?" said I.

"I said no such foolishness," he replied. "I have a brother of my
own, and I think no more of him than of a colewort. But if we are
to have our noses rubbed together in this course of flight, let us
each dare to be ourselves like savages, and each swear that he will
neither resent nor deprecate the other. I am a pretty bad fellow
at bottom, and I find the pretence of virtues very irksome."

"O, I am as bad as yourself," said I. "There is no skim milk in
Francis Burke. But which is it to be? Fight or make friends?"

"Why," says be, "I think it will be the best manner to spin a coin
for it."

This proposition was too highly chivalrous not to take my fancy;
and, strange as it may seem of two well-born gentlemen of to-day,
we span a half-crown (like a pair of ancient paladins) whether we
were to cut each other's throats or be sworn friends. A more
romantic circumstance can rarely have occurred; and it is one of
those points in my memoirs, by which we may see the old tales of
Homer and the poets are equally true to-day - at least, of the
noble and genteel. The coin fell for peace, and we shook hands
upon our bargain. And then it was that my companion explained to
me his thought in running away from Mr. Stewart, which was
certainly worthy of his political intellect. The report of his
death, he said, was a great guard to him; Mr. Stewart having
recognised him, had become a danger; and he had taken the briefest
road to that gentleman's silence. "For," says he, "Alan Black is
too vain a man to narrate any such story of himself."

Towards afternoon we came down to the shores of that loch for which
we were heading; and there was the ship, but newly come to anchor.
She was the SAINTE-MARIE-DES-ANGES, out of the port of Havre-de-
Grace. The Master, after we had signalled for a boat, asked me if
I knew the captain. I told him he was a countryman of mine, of the
most unblemished integrity, but, I was afraid, a rather timorous
man.

"No matter," says he. "For all that, he should certainly hear the
truth."

I asked him if he meant about the battle? for if the captain once
knew the standard was down, he would certainly put to sea again at
once.

"And even then!" said he; "the arms are now of no sort of utility."

"My dear man," said I, "who thinks of the arms? But, to be sure,
we must remember our friends. They will be close upon our heels,
perhaps the Prince himself, and if the ship be gone, a great number
of valuable lives may be imperilled."

"The captain and the crew have lives also, if you come to that,"
says Ballantrae.

This I declared was but a quibble, and that I would not hear of the
captain being told; and then it was that Ballantrae made me a witty
answer, for the sake of which (and also because I have been blamed
myself in this business of the SAINTE-MARIE-DES-ANGES) I have
related the whole conversation as it passed.

"Frank," says he, "remember our bargain. I must not object to your
holding your tongue, which I hereby even encourage you to do; but,
by the same terms, you are not to resent my telling."

I could not help laughing at this; though I still forewarned him
what would come of it.

"The devil may come of it for what I care," says the reckless
fellow. "I have always done exactly as I felt inclined."

As is well known, my prediction came true. The captain had no
sooner heard the news than he cut his cable and to sea again; and
before morning broke, we were in the Great Minch.

The ship was very old; and the skipper, although the most honest of
men (and Irish too), was one of the least capable. The wind blew
very boisterous, and the sea raged extremely. All that day we had
little heart whether to eat or drink; went early to rest in some
concern of mind; and (as if to give us a lesson) in the night the
wind chopped suddenly into the north-east, and blew a hurricane.
We were awaked by the dreadful thunder of the tempest and the
stamping of the mariners on deck; so that I supposed our last hour
was certainly come; and the terror of my mind was increased out of
all measure by Ballantrae, who mocked at my devotions. It is in
hours like these that a man of any piety appears in his true light,
and we find (what we are taught as babes) the small trust that can
be set in worldly friends. I would be unworthy of my religion if I
let this pass without particular remark. For three days we lay in
the dark in the cabin, and had but a biscuit to nibble. On the
fourth the wind fell, leaving the ship dismasted and heaving on
vast billows. The captain had not a guess of whither we were
blown; he was stark ignorant of his trade, and could do naught but
bless the Holy Virgin; a very good thing, too, but scarce the whole
of seamanship. It seemed, our one hope was to be picked up by
another vessel; and if that should prove to be an English ship, it
might be no great blessing to the Master and myself.

The fifth and sixth days we tossed there helpless. The seventh
some sail was got on her, but she was an unwieldy vessel at the
best, and we made little but leeway. All the time, indeed, we had
been drifting to the south and west, and during the tempest must
have driven in that direction with unheard-of violence. The ninth
dawn was cold and black, with a great sea running, and every mark
of foul weather. In this situation we were overjoyed to sight a
small ship on the horizon, and to perceive her go about and head
for the SAINTE-MARIE. But our gratification did not very long
endure; for when she had laid to and lowered a boat, it was
immediately filled with disorderly fellows, who sang and shouted as
they pulled across to us, and swarmed in on our deck with bare
cutlasses, cursing loudly. Their leader was a horrible villain,
with his face blacked and his whiskers curled in ringlets; Teach,
his name; a most notorious pirate. He stamped about the deck,
raving and crying out that his name was Satan, and his ship was
called Hell. There was something about him like a wicked child or
a half-witted person, that daunted me beyond expression. I
whispered in the ear of Ballantrae that I would not be the last to
volunteer, and only prayed God they might be short of hands; he
approved my purpose with a nod.

"Bedad," said I to Master Teach, "if you are Satan, here is a devil
for ye."

The word pleased him; and (not to dwell upon these shocking
incidents) Ballantrae and I and two others were taken for recruits,
while the skipper and all the rest were cast into the sea by the
method of walking the plank. It was the first time I had seen this
done; my heart died within me at the spectacle; and Master Teach or
one of his acolytes (for my head was too much lost to be precise)
remarked upon my pale face in a very alarming manner. I had the
strength to cut a step or two of a jig, and cry out some ribaldry,
which saved me for that time; but my legs were like water when I
must get down into the skiff among these miscreants; and what with
my horror of my company and fear of the monstrous billows, it was
all I could do to keep an Irish tongue and break a jest or two as
we were pulled aboard. By the blessing of God, there was a fiddle
in the pirate ship, which I had no sooner seen than I fell upon;
and in my quality of crowder I had the heavenly good luck to get
favour in their eyes. CROWDING PAT was the name they dubbed me
with; and it was little I cared for a name so long as my skin was
whole.

What kind of a pandemonium that vessel was, I cannot describe, but
she was commanded by a lunatic, and might be called a floating
Bedlam. Drinking, roaring, singing, quarrelling, dancing, they
were never all sober at one time; and there were days together
when, if a squall had supervened, it must have sent us to the
bottom; or if a king's ship had come along, it would have found us
quite helpless for defence. Once or twice we sighted a sail, and,
if we were sober enough, overhauled it, God forgive us! and if we
were all too drunk, she got away, and I would bless the saints
under my breath. Teach ruled, if you can call that rule which
brought no order, by the terror he created; and I observed the man
was very vain of his position. I have known marshals of France -
ay, and even Highland chieftains - that were less openly puffed up;
which throws a singular light on the pursuit of honour and glory.
Indeed, the longer we live, the more we perceive the sagacity of
Aristotle and the other old philosophers; and though I have all my
life been eager for legitimate distinctions, I can lay my hand upon
my heart, at the end of my career, and declare there is not one -
no, nor yet life itself - which is worth acquiring or preserving at
the slightest cost of dignity.

It was long before I got private speech of Ballantrae; but at
length one night we crept out upon the boltsprit, when the rest
were better employed, and commiserated our position.

"None can deliver us but the saints," said I.

"My mind is very different," said Ballantrae; "for I am going to
deliver myself. This Teach is the poorest creature possible; we
make no profit of him, and lie continually open to capture; and,"
says he, "I am not going to be a tarry pirate for nothing, nor yet
to hang in chains if I can help it." And he told me what was in
his mind to better the state of the ship in the way of discipline,
which would give us safety for the present, and a sooner hope of
deliverance when they should have gained enough and should break up
their company.

I confessed to him ingenuously that my nerve was quite shook amid
these horrible surroundings, and I durst scarce tell him to count
upon me.

"I am not very easy frightened," said he, "nor very easy beat."

A few days after, there befell an accident which had nearly hanged
us all; and offers the most extraordinary picture of the folly that
ruled in our concerns. We were all pretty drunk: and some
bedlamite spying a sail, Teach put the ship about in chase without
a glance, and we began to bustle up the arms and boast of the
horrors that should follow. I observed Ballantrae stood quiet in
the bows, looking under the shade of his hand; but for my part,
true to my policy among these savages, I was at work with the
busiest and passing Irish jests for their diversion.

"Run up the colours," cries Teach. "Show the -s the Jolly Roger!"

It was the merest drunken braggadocio at such a stage, and might
have lost us a valuable prize; but I thought it no part of mine to
reason, and I ran up the black flag with my own hand.

Ballantrae steps presently aft with a smile upon his face.

"You may perhaps like to know, you drunken dog," says he, "that you
are chasing a king's ship."

Teach roared him the lie; but he ran at the same time to the
bulwarks, and so did they all. I have never seen so many drunken
men struck suddenly sober. The cruiser had gone about, upon our
impudent display of colours; she was just then filling on the new
tack; her ensign blew out quite plain to see; and even as we
stared, there came a puff of smoke, and then a report, and a shot
plunged in the waves a good way short of us. Some ran to the
ropes, and got the SARAH round with an incredible swiftness. One
fellow fell on the rum barrel, which stood broached upon the deck,
and rolled it promptly overboard. On my part, I made for the Jolly
Roger, struck it, tossed it in the sea; and could have flung myself
after, so vexed was I with our mismanagement. As for Teach, he
grew as pale as death, and incontinently went down to his cabin.
Only twice he came on deck that afternoon; went to the taffrail;
took a long look at the king's ship, which was still on the horizon
heading after us; and then, without speech, back to his cabin. You
may say he deserted us; and if it had not been for one very capable
sailor we had on board, and for the lightness of the airs that blew
all day, we must certainly have gone to the yard-arm.

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