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CHAPTER
X THE SIEGE OF THE ROUND-HOUSE But now our time of truce was come
to an end.
Those on deck had waited for my coming till they
grew impatient; and
scarce had Alan spoken, when the captain showed face in the open door.
"Stand!" cried Alan, and pointed
his sword
at him. The captain
stood, indeed;
but he neither winced nor drew back a foot.
"A naked sword?" says he.
"This is a strange return for hospitality."
"Do ye see me?" said Alan.
"I am come of kings; I bear a king's name.
My badge is the oak.
Do ye
see my sword? It has slashed the heads off mair Whigamores than you
have toes
upon your feet. Call up your vermin to your back, sir, and fall on! The
sooner
the clash begins, the sooner ye'll taste this steel throughout your
vitals." The captain said nothing to Alan,
but he looked over
at me with an ugly look. "David,"
said he, "I'll mind this;" and the sound of his voice went through me
with a jar. Next moment he was gone. "And now," said Alan, "let your
hand
keep your head, for the grip is coming."
Alan drew a dirk, which he held in
his left hand in
case they should run in under his sword.
I,
on my part, clambered up into the berth with an armful of pistols and
something
of a heavy heart, and set open the window where I was to watch.
It was a small part of the deck that I could
overlook, but enough for our
purpose. The sea
had gone down, and
the wind was steady and kept the sails quiet; so that there was a great
stillness in the ship, in which I made sure I heard the sound of
muttering
voices. A little
after, and there
came a clash of steel upon the deck, by which I knew they were dealing
out the
cutlasses and one had been let fall; and after that, silence again.
I do not know if I was what you
call afraid; but my
heart beat like a bird's, both quick and little; and there was a
dimness came
before my eyes which I continually rubbed away, and which continually
returned.
As for hope, I had none; but only a darkness of
despair and a sort of
anger against all the world that made me long to sell my life as dear
as I was
able. I tried to
pray, I remember,
but that same hurry of my mind, like a man running, would not suffer me
to think
upon the words; and my chief wish was to have the thing begin and be
done with
it. It came all of a sudden when it
did, with a rush of
feet and a roar, and then a shout from Alan, and a sound of blows and
some one
crying out as if hurt. I
looked
back over my shoulder, and saw Mr. Shuan in the doorway, crossing
blades with
Alan. "That's him that killed the boy!" I
cried.
"Look to your window!" said Alan;
and as I
turned back to my place, I saw him pass his sword through the mate's
body.
It was none too soon for me to look
to my own part;
for my head was scarce back at the window, before five men, carrying a
spare
yard for a battering-ram, ran past me and took post to drive the door
in.
I had never fired with a pistol in my life, and not
often with a gun; far
less against a fellow-creature. But
it was now or never; and just as they swang the yard, I cried out:
"Take
that!" and shot into their midst.
I must have hit one of them, for he
sang out and gave
back a step, and the rest stopped as if a little disconcerted.
Before they had time to recover, I sent another ball
over their heads;
and at my third shot (which went as wide as the second) the whole party
threw
down the yard and ran for it.
Then I looked round again into the
deck-house.
The whole place was full of the smoke of my own
firing, just as my ears
seemed to be burst with the noise of the shots.
But there was Alan, standing as before; only now his
sword was running
blood to the hilt, and himself so swelled with triumph and fallen into
so fine
an attitude, that he looked to be invincible.
Right before him on the floor was Mr. Shuan, on his
hands and knees; the
blood was pouring from his mouth, and he was sinking slowly lower, with
a
terrible, white face; and just as I looked, some of those from behind
caught
hold of him by the heels and dragged him bodily out of the round-house.
I believe he died as they were doing it. "There's one of your Whigs for ye!"
cried
Alan; and then turning to me, he asked if I had done much execution.
I told him I had winged one, and
thought it was the
captain. "And I've settled two," says he.
"No, there's not enough blood let; they'll be back
again.
To your watch, David.
This
was but a dram before meat."
I settled back to my place,
re-charging the three
pistols I had fired, and keeping watch with both eye and ear.
Our enemies were disputing not far
off upon the deck,
and that so loudly that I could hear a word or two above the washing of
the
seas. "It was Shuan bauchled[15]
it," I heard one say. And another answered him with a
"Wheesht, man!
He's paid the piper." After that the voices fell again
into the same
muttering as before. Only
now, one
person spoke most of the time, as though laying down a plan, and first
one and
then another answered him briefly, like men taking orders.
By this, I made sure they were coming on again, and
told Alan.
"It's what we have to pray for,"
said he.
"Unless we can give them a good distaste of us, and
done with it,
there'll be nae sleep for either you or me.
But this time, mind, they'll be in earnest."
By this, my pistols were ready, and
there was nothing
to do but listen and wait. While
the brush lasted, I had not the time to think if I was frighted; but
now, when
all was still again, my mind ran upon nothing else.
The thought of the sharp swords and the cold steel
was strong in me; and
presently, when I began to hear stealthy steps and a brushing of men's
clothes
against the round-house wall, and knew they were taking their places in
the
dark, I could have found it in my mind to cry out aloud.
All this was upon Alan's side; and
I had begun to
think my share of the fight was at an end, when I heard some one drop
softly on
the roof above me. Then there came a single call on
the sea-pipe, and
that was the signal. A
knot of them
made one rush of it, cutlass in hand, against the door; and at the same
moment,
the glass of the skylight was dashed in a thousand pieces, and a man
leaped
through and landed on the floor. Before
he got his feet, I had clapped a pistol to his back, and might have
shot him,
too; only at the touch of him (and him alive) my whole flesh misgave
me, and I
could no more pull the trigger than I could have flown.
He had dropped his cutlass as he
jumped, and when he
felt the pistol, whipped straight round and laid hold of me, roaring
out an
oath; and at that either my courage came again, or I grew so much
afraid as came
to the same thing; for I gave a shriek and shot him in the midst of the
body.
He gave the most horrible, ugly groan and fell to
the floor.
The foot of a second fellow, whose legs were
dangling through the
skylight, struck me at the same time upon the head; and at that I
snatched
another pistol and shot this one through the thigh, so that he slipped
through
and tumbled in a lump on his companion's body.
There was no talk of missing, any more than there
was time to aim; I
clapped the muzzle to the very place and fired.
I might have stood and stared at
them for long, but I
heard Alan shout as if for help, and that brought me to my senses.
He had kept the door so long; but
one of the seamen,
while he was engaged with others, had run in under his guard and caught
him
about the body. Alan
was dirking
him with his left hand, but the fellow clung like a leech.
Another had broken in and had his cutlass raised.
The door was thronged with their faces.
I thought we were lost, and catching up my cutlass,
fell on them in
flank. But I had not time to be of help.
The wrestler dropped at last; and Alan, leaping back
to get his distance,
ran upon the others like a bull, roaring as he went.
They broke before him like water, turning, and
running, and falling one
against another in their haste. The
sword in his hands flashed like quicksilver into the huddle of our
fleeing
enemies; and at every flash there came the scream of a man hurt.
I was still thinking we were lost, when lo! they
were all gone, and Alan
was driving them along the deck as a sheep-dog chases sheep. Yet he was no sooner out than he
was back again,
being as cautious as he was brave; and meanwhile the seamen continued
running
and crying out as if he was still behind them; and we heard them tumble
one upon
another into the forecastle, and clap-to the hatch upon the top.
The round-house was like a
shambles; three were dead
inside, another lay in his death agony across the threshold; and there
were Alan
and I victorious and unhurt.
He came up to me with open arms.
"Come to my arms!" he cried, and embraced and kissed
me hard
upon both cheek. "David,"
said he, "I love you like a brother.
And
O, man," he cried in a kind of ecstasy, "am I no a bonny
fighter?" Thereupon he turned to the four
enemies, passed his
sword clean through each of them, and tumbled them out of doors one
after the
other. As he did
so, he kept
humming and singing and whistling to himself, like a man trying to
recall an
air; only what HE was trying was to make one.
All the while, the flush was in his face, and his
eyes were as bright as
a five-year-old child's with a new toy.
And
presently he sat down upon the table, sword in hand; the air that he
was making
all the time began to run a little clearer, and then clearer still; and
then out
he burst with a great voice into a Gaelic song.
I have translated it here, not in
verse (of which I
have no skill) but at least in the king's English.
He sang it often afterwards, and
the thing became
popular; so that I have, heard it, and had it explained to me, many's
the time.
"This is the song of the sword of
Alan;
The smith made it,
The fire set it;
Now
it shines in the hand of Alan Breck.
"Their eyes were many and bright,
Swift were they to behold,
Many
the hands they guided: The
sword
was alone. "The dun deer troop over the hill,
They are many, the hill is one;
The
dun deer vanish, The
hill remains. "Come to me from the hills of
heather,
Come from the isles of the sea.
O
far-beholding eagles, Here
is your
meat."
Now this song which he made (both
words and music) in
the hour of our victory, is something less than just to me, who stood
beside him
in the tussle. Mr.
Shuan and five
more were either killed outright or thoroughly disabled; but of these,
two fell
by my hand, the two that came by the skylight.
Four more were hurt, and of that number, one (and he
not the least
important) got his hurt from me. So
that, altogether, I did my fair share both of the killing and the
wounding, and
might have claimed a place in Alan's verses.
But poets have to think upon their rhymes; and in
good prose talk, Alan
always did me more than justice.
In the meanwhile, I was innocent of
any wrong being
done me. For not
only I knew no
word of the Gaelic; but what with the long suspense of the waiting, and
the
scurry and strain of our two spirts of fighting, and more than all, the
horror I
had of some of my own share in it, the thing was no sooner over than I
was glad
to stagger to a seat. There
was
that tightness on my chest that I could hardly breathe; the thought of
the two
men I had shot sat upon me like a nightmare; and all upon a sudden, and
before I
had a guess of what was coming, I began to sob and cry like any child.
Alan clapped my shoulder, and said
I was a brave lad
and wanted nothing but a sleep.
"I'll take the first watch," said
he.
"Ye've done well by me, David, first and last; and I
wouldn't lose
you for all Appin — no, nor for Breadalbane."
So I made up my bed on the floor;
and he took the
first spell, pistol in hand and sword on knee, three hours by the
captain's
watch upon the wall. Then
he roused
me up, and I took my turn of three hours; before the end of which it
was broad
day, and a very quiet morning, with a smooth, rolling sea that tossed
the ship
and made the blood run to and fro on the round-house floor, and a heavy
rain
that drummed upon the roof. All
my
watch there was nothing stirring; and by the banging of the helm, I
knew they
had even no one at the tiller. Indeed
(as I learned afterwards) there were so many of them hurt or dead, and
the rest
in so ill a temper, that Mr. Riach and the captain had to take turn and
turn
like Alan and me, or the brig might have gone ashore and nobody the
wiser.
It was a mercy the night had fallen so still, for
the wind had gone down
as soon as the rain began. Even
as
it was, I judged by the wailing of a great number of gulls that went
crying and
fishing round the ship, that she must have drifted pretty near the
coast or one
of the islands of the Hebrides; and at last, looking out of the door of
the
round-house, I saw the great stone hills of Skye on the right hand,
and, a
little more astern, the strange isle of Rum.
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