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.
[15]Bungled.
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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