Chapter XVI. The Lad with the Silver Button: Across Morven

by Robert Louis Stevenson

　　There is a regular ferry from Torosay to Kinlochaline on themainland. Both shores of the Sound are in the country of thestrong clan of the Macleans, and the people that passed the ferrywith me were almost all of that clan. The skipper of the boat,on the other hand, was called Neil Roy Macrob; and since Macrobwas one of the names of Alan's clansmen, and Alan himself hadsent me to that ferry, I was eager to come to private speech ofNeil Roy.In the crowded boat this was of course impossible, and thepassage was a very slow affair. There was no wind, and as theboat was wretchedly equipped, we could pull but two oars on oneside, and one on the other. The men gave way, however, with agood will, the passengers taking spells to help them, and thewhole company giving the time in Gaelic boat-songs. And whatwith the songs, and the sea-air, and the good-nature and spiritof all concerned, and the bright weather, the passage was apretty thing to have seen.But there was one melancholy part. In the mouth of Loch Aline wefound a great sea-going ship at anchor; and this I supposed atfirst to be one of the King's cruisers which were kept along thatcoast, both summer and winter, to prevent communication with theFrench. As we got a little nearer, it became plain she was aship of merchandise; and what still more puzzled me, not only herdecks, but the sea-beach also, were quite black with people, andskiffs were continually plying to and fro between them. Yetnearer, and there began to come to our ears a great sound ofmourning, the people on board and those on the shore crying andlamenting one to another so as to pierce the heart.Then I understood this was an emigrant ship bound for theAmerican colonies.We put the ferry-boat alongside, and the exiles leaned over thebulwarks, weeping and reaching out their hands to myfellow-passengers, among whom they counted some near friends.How long this might have gone on I do not know, for they seemedto have no sense of time: but at last the captain of the ship,who seemed near beside himself (and no great wonder) in the midstof this crying and confusion, came to the side and begged us todepart.Thereupon Neil sheered off; and the chief singer in our boatstruck into a melancholy air, which was presently taken up bothby the emigrants and their friends upon the beach, so that itsounded from all sides like a lament for the dying. I saw thetears run down the cheeks of the men and women in the boat, evenas they bent at the oars; and the circumstances and the music ofthe song (which is one called "Lochaber no more") were highlyaffecting even to myself.At Kinlochaline I got Neil Roy upon one side on the beach, andsaid I made sure he was one of Appin's men."And what for no?" said he."I am seeking somebody," said I; "and it comes in my mind thatyou will have news of him. Alan Breck Stewart is his name." Andvery foolishly, instead of showing him the button, I sought topass a shilling in his hand.At this he drew back. "I am very much affronted," he said; "andthis is not the way that one shentleman should behave to anotherat all. The man you ask for is in France; but if he was in mysporran," says he, "and your belly full of shillings, I would nothurt a hair upon his body."I saw I had gone the wrong way to work, and without wasting timeupon apologies, showed him the button lying in the hollow of mypalm."Aweel, aweel," said Neil; "and I think ye might have begun withthat end of the stick, whatever! But if ye are the lad with thesilver button, all is well, and I have the word to see that yecome safe. But if ye will pardon me to speak plainly," says he,"there is a name that you should never take into your mouth, andthat is the name of Alan Breck; and there is a thing that yewould never do, and that is to offer your dirty money to aHieland shentleman."It was not very easy to apologise; for I could scarce tell him(what was the truth) that I had never dreamed he would set up tobe a gentleman until he told me so. Neil on his part had no wishto prolong his dealings with me, only to fulfil his orders and bedone with it; and he made haste to give me my route. This was tolie the night in Kinlochaline in the public inn; to cross Morventhe next day to Ardgour, and lie the night in the house of oneJohn of the Claymore, who was warned that I might come; the thirdday, to be set across one loch at Corran and another atBalachulish, and then ask my way to the house of James of theGlens, at Aucharn in Duror of Appin. There was a good deal offerrying, as you hear; the sea in all this part running deep intothe mountains and winding about their roots. It makes thecountry strong to hold and difficult to travel, but full ofprodigious wild and dreadful prospects.I had some other advice from Neil: to speak with no one by theway, to avoid Whigs, Campbells, and the "red-soldiers;" to leavethe road and lie in a bush if I saw any of the latter coming,"for it was never chancy to meet in with them;" and in brief, toconduct myself like a robber or a Jacobite agent, as perhaps Neilthought me.The inn at Kinlochaline was the most beggarly vile place thatever pigs were styed in, full of smoke, vermin, and silentHighlanders. I was not only discontented with my lodging, butwith myself for my mismanagement of Neil, and thought I couldhardly be worse off. But very wrongly, as I was soon to see; forI had not been half an hour at the inn (standing in the door mostof the time, to ease my eyes from the peat smoke) when athunderstorm came close by, the springs broke in a little hill onwhich the inn stood, and one end of the house became a runningwater. Places of public entertainment were bad enough all overScotland in those days; yet it was a wonder to myself, when I hadto go from the fireside to the bed in which I slept, wading overthe shoes.Early in my next day's journey I overtook a little, stout, solemnman, walking very slowly with his toes turned out, sometimesreading in a book and sometimes marking the place with hisfinger, and dressed decently and plainly in something of aclerical style.This I found to be another catechist, but of a different orderfrom the blind man of Mull: being indeed one of those sent out bythe Edinburgh Society for Propagating Christian Knowledge, toevangelise the more savage places of the Highlands. His name wasHenderland; he spoke with the broad south-country tongue, which Iwas beginning to weary for the sound of; and besides commoncountryship, we soon found we had a more particular bond ofinterest. For my good friend, the minister of Essendean, hadtranslated into the Gaelic in his by-time a number of hymns andpious books which Henderland used in his work, and held in greatesteem. Indeed, it was one of these he was carrying and readingwhen we met.We fell in company at once, our ways lying together as far as toKingairloch. As we went, he stopped and spoke with all thewayfarers and workers that we met or passed; and though of courseI could not tell what they discoursed about, yet I judged Mr.Henderland must be well liked in the countryside, for I observedmany of them to bring out their mulls and share a pinch of snuffwith him.I told him as far in my affairs as I judged wise; as far, thatis, as they were none of Alan's; and gave Balachulish as theplace I was travelling to, to meet a friend; for I thoughtAucharn, or even Duror, would be too particular, and might puthim on the scent.On his part, he told me much of his work and the people he workedamong, the hiding priests and Jacobites, the Disarming Act, thedress, and many other curiosities of the time and place. Heseemed moderate; blaming Parliament in several points, andespecially because they had framed the Act more severely againstthose who wore the dress than against those who carried weapons.This moderation put it in my mind to question him of the Red Foxand the Appin tenants; questions which, I thought, would seemnatural enough in the mouth of one travelling to that country.He said it was a bad business. "It's wonderful," said he, "wherethe tenants find the money, for their life is mere starvation.(Ye don't carry such a thing as snuff, do ye, Mr. Balfour? No.Well, I'm better wanting it.) But these tenants (as I wassaying) are doubtless partly driven to it. James Stewart inDuror (that's him they call James of the Glens) is half-brotherto Ardshiel, the captain of the clan; and he is a man much lookedup to, and drives very hard. And then there's one they call AlanBreck--""Ah!" I cried, "what of him?""What of the wind that bloweth where it listeth?" saidHenderland. "He's here and awa; here to-day and gone to-morrow:a fair heather-cat. He might be glowering at the two of us outof yon whin-bush, and I wouldnae wonder! Ye'll no carry such athing as snuff, will ye?"I told him no, and that he had asked the same thing more thanonce."It's highly possible," said he, sighing. "But it seems strangeye shouldnae carry it. However, as I was saying, this Alan Breckis a bold, desperate customer, and well kent to be James's righthand. His life is forfeit already; he would boggle at naething;and maybe, if a tenant-body was to hang back he would get a dirkin his wame.""You make a poor story of it all, Mr. Henderland," said I. "Ifit is all fear upon both sides, I care to hear no more of it.""Na," said Mr. Henderland, "but there's love too, and self-denialthat should put the like of you and me to shame. There'ssomething fine about it; no perhaps Christian, but humanly fine.Even Alan Breck, by all that I hear, is a chield to be respected.There's many a lying sneck-draw sits close in kirk in our ownpart of the country, and stands well in the world's eye, andmaybe is a far worse man, Mr. Balfour, than yon misguided shedderof man's blood. Ay, ay, we might take a lesson by them. -- Ye'llperhaps think I've been too long in the Hielands?" he added,smiling to me.I told him not at all; that I had seen much to admire among theHighlanders; and if he came to that, Mr. Campbell himself was aHighlander."Ay," said he, "that's true. It's a fine blood.""And what is the King's agent about?" I asked."Colin Campbell?" says Henderland. "Putting his head in a bees'byke!""He is to turn the tenants out by force, I hear?" said I."Yes," says he, "but the business has gone back and forth, asfolk say. First, James of the Glens rode to Edinburgh, and gotsome lawyer (a Stewart, nae doubt -- they all hing together likebats in a steeple) and had the proceedings stayed. And thenColin Campbell cam' in again, and had the upper-hand before theBarons of Exchequer. And now they tell me the first of thetenants are to flit to-morrow. It's to begin at Duror underJames's very windows, which doesnae seem wise by my humble way ofit.""Do you think they'll fight?" I asked."Well," says Henderland, "they're disarmed -- or supposed to be-- for there's still a good deal of cold iron lying by in quietplaces. And then Colin Campbell has the sogers coming. But forall that, if I was his lady wife, I wouldnae be well pleased tillI got him home again. They're queer customers, the AppinStewarts."I asked if they were worse than their neighbours."No they," said he. "And that's the worst part of it. For ifColin Roy can get his business done in Appin, he has it all tobegin again in the next country, which they call Mamore, andwhich is one of the countries of the Camerons. He's King'sFactor upon both, and from both he has to drive out the tenants;and indeed, Mr. Balfour (to be open with ye), it's my belief thatif he escapes the one lot, he'll get his death by the other."So we continued talking and walking the great part of the, day;until at last, Mr. Henderland after expressing his delight in mycompany, and satisfaction at meeting with a friend of Mr.Campbell's ("whom," says he, "I will make bold to call that sweetsinger of our covenanted Zion"), proposed that I should make ashort stage, and lie the night in his house a little beyondKingairloch. To say truth, I was overjoyed; for I had no greatdesire for John of the Claymore, and since my doublemisadventure, first with the guide and next with the gentlemanskipper, I stood in some fear of any Highland stranger.Accordingly we shook hands upon the bargain, and came in theafternoon to a small house, standing alone by the shore of theLinnhe Loch. The sun was already gone from the desert mountainsof Ardgour upon the hither side, but shone on those of Appin onthe farther; the loch lay as still as a lake, only the gulls werecrying round the sides of it; and the whole place seemed solemnand uncouth.We had no sooner come to the door of Mr. Henderland's dwelling,than to my great surprise (for I was now used to the politenessof Highlanders) he burst rudely past me, dashed into the room,caught up a jar and a small horn-spoon, and began ladling snuffinto his nose in most excessive quantities. Then he had a heartyfit of sneezing, and looked round upon me with a rather sillysmile."It's a vow I took," says he. "I took a vow upon me that Iwouldnae carry it. Doubtless it's a great privation; but when Ithink upon the martyrs, not only to the Scottish Covenant but toother points of Christianity, I think shame to mind it."As soon as we had eaten (and porridge and whey was the best ofthe good man's diet) he took a grave face and said he had a dutyto perform by Mr. Campbell, and that was to inquire into my stateof mind towards God. I was inclined to smile at him since thebusiness of the snuff; but he had not spoken long before hebrought the tears into my eyes. There are two things that menshould never weary of, goodness and humility; we get none toomuch of them in this rough world among cold, proud people; butMr. Henderland had their very speech upon his tongue. And thoughI was a good deal puffed up with my adventures and with havingcome off, as the saying is, with flying colours; yet he soon hadme on my knees beside a simple, poor old man, and both proud andglad to be there.Before we went to bed he offered me sixpence to help me on myway, out of a scanty store he kept in the turf wall of his house;at which excess of goodness I knew not what to do. But at lasthe was so earnest with me that I thought it the more mannerlypart to let him have his way, and so left him poorer than myself.