Chapter XXI. The Flight in the Heather: The Heugh of Corrynakiegh

by Robert Louis Stevenson

　　Early as day comes in the beginning of July, it was still darkwhen we reached our destination, a cleft in the head of a greatmountain, with a water running through the midst, and upon theone hand a shallow cave in a rock. Birches grew there in a thin,pretty wood, which a little farther on was changed into a wood ofpines. The burn was full of trout; the wood of cushat-doves; onthe open side of the mountain beyond, whaups would be alwayswhistling, and cuckoos were plentiful. From the mouth of thecleft we looked down upon a part of Mamore, and on the sea-lochthat divides that country from Appin; and this from so great aheight as made it my continual wonder and pleasure to sit andbehold them.The name of the cleft was the Heugh of Corrynakiegh; and althoughfrom its height and being so near upon the sea, it was oftenbeset with clouds, yet it was on the whole a pleasant place, andthe five days we lived in it went happily.We slept in the cave, making our bed of heather bushes which wecut for that purpose, and covering ourselves with Alan'sgreat-coat. There was a low concealed place, in a turning of theglen, where we were so bold as to make fire: so that we couldwarm ourselves when the clouds set in, and cook hot porridge, andgrill the little trouts that we caught with our hands under thestones and overhanging banks of the burn. This was indeed ourchief pleasure and business; and not only to save our mealagainst worse times, but with a rivalry that much amused us, wespent a great part of our days at the water-side, stripped to thewaist and groping about or (as they say) guddling for these fish.The largest we got might have been a quarter of a pound; but theywere of good flesh and flavour, and when broiled upon the coals,lacked only a little salt to be delicious.In any by-time Alan must teach me to use my sword, for myignorance had much distressed him; and I think besides, as I hadsometimes the upper-hand of him in the fishing, he was not sorryto turn to an exercise where he had so much the upper-hand of me.He made it somewhat more of a pain than need have been, for hestormed at me all through the lessons in a very violent manner ofscolding, and would push me so close that I made sure he must runme through the body. I was often tempted to turn tail, but heldmy ground for all that, and got some profit of my lessons; if itwas but to stand on guard with an assured countenance, which isoften all that is required. So, though I could never in theleast please my master, I was not altogether displeased withmyself.In the meanwhile, you are not to suppose that we neglected ourchief business, which was to get away."It will be many a long day," Alan said to me on our firstmorning, "before the red-coats think upon seeking Corrynakiegh;so now we must get word sent to James, and he must find thesiller for us.""And how shall we send that word?" says I. "We are here in adesert place, which yet we dare not leave; and unless ye get thefowls of the air to be your messengers, I see not what we shallbe able to do.""Ay?" said Alan. "Ye're a man of small contrivance, David."Thereupon he fell in a muse, looking in the embers of the fire;and presently, getting a piece of wood, he fashioned it in across, the four ends of which he blackened on the coals. Then helooked at me a little shyly."Could ye lend me my button?" says he. "It seems a strange thingto ask a gift again, but I own I am laith to cut another."I gave him the button; whereupon he strung it on a strip of hisgreat-coat which he had used to bind the cross; and tying in alittle sprig of birch and another of fir, he looked upon his workwith satisfaction."Now," said he, "there is a little clachan" (what is called ahamlet in the English) "not very far from Corrynakiegh, and ithas the name of Koalisnacoan. There there are living manyfriends of mine whom I could trust with my life, and some that Iam no just so sure of. Ye see, David, there will be money setupon our heads; James himsel' is to set money on them; and as forthe Campbells, they would never spare siller where there was aStewart to be hurt. If it was otherwise, I would go down toKoalisnacoan whatever, and trust my life into these people'shands as lightly as I would trust another with my glove.""But being so?" said I."Being so," said he, "I would as lief they didnae see me.There's bad folk everywhere, and what's far worse, weak ones. Sowhen it comes dark again, I will steal down into that clachan,and set this that I have been making in the window of a goodfriend of mine, John Breck Maccoll, a bouman[26] of Appin's."[26]A bouman is a tenant who takes stock from the landlord andshares with him the increase."With all my heart," says I; "and if he finds it, what is he tothink?""Well," says Alan, "I wish he was a man of more penetration, forby my troth I am afraid he will make little enough of it! Butthis is what I have in my mind. This cross is something in thenature of the crosstarrie, or fiery cross, which is the signal ofgathering in our clans; yet he will know well enough the clan isnot to rise, for there it is standing in his window, and no wordwith it. So he will say to himsel', The clan is not to rise, butthere is something. Then he will see my button, and that wasDuncan Stewart's. And then he will say to himsel', The son ofDuncan is in the heather, and has need of me.""Well," said I, "it may be. But even supposing so, there is agood deal of heather between here and the Forth.""And that is a very true word," says Alan. "But then John Breckwill see the sprig of birch and the sprig of pine; and he willsay to himsel' (if he is a man of any penetration at all, which Imisdoubt), Alan will be lying in a wood which is both of pinesand birches. Then he will think to himsel', That is not so veryrife hereabout; and then he will come and give us a look up inCorrynakiegh. And if he does not, David, the devil may fly awaywith him, for what I care; for he will no be worth the salt tohis porridge.""Eh, man," said I, drolling with him a little, "you're veryingenious! But would it not be simpler for you to write him a fewwords in black and white?""And that is an excellent observe, Mr. Balfour of Shaws," saysAlan, drolling with me; "and it would certainly be much simplerfor me to write to him, but it would be a sore job for John Breckto read it. He would have to go to the school for two-threeyears; and it's possible we might be wearied waiting on him."So that night Alan carried down his fiery cross and set it in thebouman's window. He was troubled when he came back; for the dogshad barked and the folk run out from their houses; and he thoughthe had heard a clatter of arms and seen a red-coat come to one ofthe doors. On all accounts we lay the next day in the borders ofthe wood and kept a close look-out, so that if it was John Breckthat came we might be ready to guide him, and if it was thered-coats we should have time to get away.About noon a man was to be spied, straggling up the open side ofthe mountain in the sun, and looking round him as he came, fromunder his hand. No sooner had Alan seen him than he whistled;the man turned and came a little towards us: then Alan would giveanother "peep!" and the man would come still nearer; and so bythe sound of whistling, he was guided to the spot where we lay.He was a ragged, wild, bearded man, about forty, grosslydisfigured with the small pox, and looked both dull and savage.Although his English was very bad and broken, yet Alan (accordingto his very handsome use, whenever I was by) would suffer him tospeak no Gaelic. Perhaps the strange language made him appearmore backward than he really was; but I thought he had littlegood-will to serve us, and what he had was the child of terror.Alan would have had him carry a message to James; but the boumanwould hear of no message. "She was forget it," he said in hisscreaming voice; and would either have a letter or wash his handsof us.I thought Alan would be gravelled at that, for we lacked themeans of writing in that desert.But he was a man of more resources than I knew; searched the wooduntil he found the quill of a cushat-dove, which he shaped into apen; made himself a kind of ink with gunpowder from his horn andwater from the running stream; and tearing a corner from hisFrench military commission (which he carried in his pocket, likea talisman to keep him from the gallows), he sat down and wroteas follows:"DEAR KINSMAN, -- Please send the money by the bearer to theplace he kens of."Your affectionate cousin,"A. S."This he intrusted to the bouman, who promised to make what mannerof speed he best could, and carried it off with him down thehill.He was three full days gone, but about five in the evening of thethird, we heard a whistling in the wood, which Alan answered; andpresently the bouman came up the water-side, looking for us,right and left. He seemed less sulky than before, and indeed hewas no doubt well pleased to have got to the end of such adangerous commission.He gave us the news of the country; that it was alive withred-coats; that arms were being found, and poor folk brought introuble daily; and that James and some of his servants werealready clapped in prison at Fort William, under strong suspicionof complicity. It seemed it was noised on all sides that AlanBreck had fired the shot; and there was a bill issued for bothhim and me, with one hundred pounds reward.This was all as bad as could be; and the little note the boumanhad carried us from Mrs. Stewart was of a miserable sadness. Init she besought Alan not to let himself be captured, assuringhim, if he fell in the hands of the troops, both he and Jameswere no better than dead men. The money she had sent was allthat she could beg or borrow, and she prayed heaven we could bedoing with it. Lastly, she said, she enclosed us one of thebills in which we were described.This we looked upon with great curiosity and not a little fear,partly as a man may look in a mirror, partly as he might lookinto the barrel of an enemy's gun to judge if it be truly aimed.Alan was advertised as "a small, pock-marked, active man ofthirty-five or thereby, dressed in a feathered hat, a Frenchside-coat of blue with silver buttons, and lace a great dealtarnished, a red waistcoat and breeches of black, shag;" and I as"a tall strong lad of about eighteen, wearing an old blue coat,very ragged, an old Highland bonnet, a long homespun waistcoat,blue breeches; his legs bare, low-country shoes, wanting thetoes; speaks like a Lowlander, and has no beard."Alan was well enough pleased to see his finery so fullyremembered and set down; only when he came to the word tarnish,he looked upon his lace like one a little mortified. As formyself, I thought I cut a miserable figure in the bill; and yetwas well enough pleased too, for since I had changed these rags,the description had ceased to be a danger and become a source ofsafety."Alan," said I, "you should change your clothes.""Na, troth!" said Alan, "I have nae others. A fine sight I wouldbe, if I went back to France in a bonnet!"This put a second reflection in my mind: that if I were toseparate from Alan and his tell-tale clothes I should be safeagainst arrest, and might go openly about my business. Nor wasthis all; for suppose I was arrested when I was alone, there waslittle against me; but suppose I was taken in company with thereputed murderer, my case would begin to be grave. Forgenerosity's sake I dare not speak my mind upon this head; but Ithought of it none the less.I thought of it all the more, too, when the bouman brought out agreen purse with four guineas in gold, and the best part ofanother in small change. True, it was more than I had. But thenAlan, with less than five guineas, had to get as far as France;I, with my less than two, not beyond Queensferry; so that takingthings in their proportion, Alan's society was not only a perilto my life, but a burden on my purse.But there was no thought of the sort in the honest head of mycompanion. He believed he was serving, helping, and protectingme. And what could I do but hold my peace, and chafe, and takemy chance of it?"It's little enough," said Alan, putting the purse in his pocket,"but it'll do my business. And now, John Breck, if ye will handme over my button, this gentleman and me will be for taking theroad."But the bouman, after feeling about in a hairy purse that hung infront of him in the Highland manner (though he wore otherwise theLowland habit, with sea-trousers), began to roll his eyesstrangely, and at last said, "Her nainsel will loss it," meaninghe thought he had lost it."What!" cried Alan, "you will lose my button, that was myfather's before me? Now I will tell you what is in my mind, JohnBreck: it is in my mind this is the worst day's work that ever yedid since ye was born."And as Alan spoke, he set his hands on his knees and looked atthe bouman with a smiling mouth, and that dancing light in hiseyes that meant mischief to his enemies.Perhaps the bouman was honest enough; perhaps he had meant tocheat and then, finding himself alone with two of us in a desertplace, cast back to honesty as being safer; at least, and all atonce, he seemed to find that button and handed it to Alan."Well, and it is a good thing for the honour of the Maccolls,"said Alan, and then to me, "Here is my button back again, and Ithank you for parting with it, which is of a piece with all yourfriendships to me." Then he took the warmest parting of thebouman. "For," says he, "ye have done very well by me, and setyour neck at a venture, and I will always give you the name of agood man."Lastly, the bouman took himself off by one way; and Alan I(getting our chattels together) struck into another to resume ourflight.