THE BAILLIES OF NO MAN'S LAND
The next period in my life lies still in my mind like a dream. I have a remembrance of awaking and an impression of light, and strange faces, and then all was dark again. Of those days my memory is a blank; there is nothing but a medley of sickness and weariness, light and blackness, and the wild phantoms of a sick man's visions.
When I first awoke to clear consciousness, it was towards evening in a wild glen just below the Devil's Beef Tub at the head of the Annan. I had no knowledge where I was. All that I saw was a crowd of men and women around me, a fire burning and a great pot hissing thereon. All that I heard was a babel of every noise, from the discordant cries of men to the yelping of a pack of curs. I was lying on a very soft couch made of skins and cloaks in the shade of a little roughly-made tent. Beyond I could see the bare hillsides rising shoulder on shoulder, and the sting of air on my cheek told me that it was freezing hard. But I was not cold, for the roaring fire made the place warm as a baker's oven.
I lay still and wondered, casting my mind over all the events of the past that I could remember. I was still giddy in the head, and the effort made me close my eyes with weariness. Try as I would I could think of nothing beyond my parting from Marjory at Smitwood. All the events of my wanderings for the moment had gone from my mind.
By and by I grew a little stronger, and bit by bit the thing returned to me. I remembered with great vividness the weary incidents of my flight, even up to its end and my final sinking. But still the matter was no clearer. I had been rescued, it was plain, but by whom, when, where, why? I lay and puzzled over the thing with a curious mixture of indifference and interest.
Suddenly a face looked in upon me, and a loud strident voice cried out in a tongue which I scarce fully understood. The purport of its words was that the sick man was awake and looking about him. In a minute the babel was stilled, and I heard a woman's voice giving orders. Then some one came to me with a basin of soup.
"Drink, lad," said she; "ye've had a geyan close escape but a' is richt wi' ye noo. Tak this and see how ye feel."
The woman was tall and squarely built like a man; indeed, I cannot think that she was under six feet. Her face struck me with astonishment, for I had seen no woman for many a day since Marjory's fair face, and the harsh commanding features of my nurse seemed doubly strange. For dress she wore a black hat tied down over her ears with a 'kerchief, and knotted in gipsy fashion beneath her chin. Her gown was of some dark-blue camlet cloth, and so short that it scarce reached her knees, though whether this fashion was meant for expedition in movement or merely for display of gaudy stockings, I know not. Certainly her stockings were monstrously fine, being of dark blue flowered with scarlet thread, and her shoon were adorned with great buckles of silver. Her outer petticoat was folded so as to make two large pockets on either side, and in the bosom of her dress I saw a great clasp-knife.
I drank the soup, which was made of some wild herbs known only to the gipsy folk, and lay back on my couch.
"Now, sleep a wee, lad," said the woman, "and I'll warrant ye'll be as blithe the morn as ever."
I slept for some hours, and when I awoke sure enough I felt mightily strengthened. It was now eventide and the camp-fire had been made larger to cook the evening meal. As I looked forth I could see men squatting around it, broiling each his own piece of meat in the ashes, while several cauldrons sputtered and hissed on the chains. It was a wild, bustling sight, and as I lay and watched I was not sorry that I had fallen into such hands. For I ever loved to see new things and strange ways, and now I was like to have my fill.
They brought me supper, a wild duck roasted and coarse home-made bread, and a bottle of very tolerable wine, got I know not whence unless from the cellars of some churlish laird. I ate it heartily, for I had fasted long in my sickness, and now that I was recovered I had much to make up.
Then the woman returned and asked me how I did. I told her, "Well," and thanked her for her care, asking her how I had been rescued and where I was. And this was the tale she told me.
She was of the clan of the Baillies, the great gipsies of Tweeddale and Clydesdale, offshoots of the house of Lamington, and proud as the devil or John Faa himself. They had been encamped in the little haugh at the foot of the Wormel on the night of my chase. They had heard a cry, and a man with a face like death had staggered in among them and fainted at their feet. Captain William Baillie, their leader, of whom more anon, had often been well-entreated at Barns in my father's time, and had heard of my misfortunes. He made a guess as to who I was and ordered that I should be well looked after. Meantime the two companies of soldiers passed by, suspecting nothing, and not troubling to look for the object of their search, who all the while was lying senseless beneath a gipsy tent. When all was safe they looked to my condition, and found that I was in a raging fever with cold and fatigue. Now the gipsies, especially those of our own countryside, are great adepts in medicine, and they speedily had all remedies applied to me. For three weeks I lay ill, delirious most of the time, and they bore me with them in a litter in all their wanderings. I have heard of many strange pieces of generosity, but of none more strange than thisto carry with much difficulty a helpless stranger over some of the roughest land in Scotland, and all for no other motive than sheer kindliness to a house which had befriended them of old. With them I travelled over the wild uplands of Eskdale and Ettrick, and with them I now returned to the confines of Tweeddale.
"The Captain's awa' just noo," added she, "but he'll be back the morn, and blithe he'll be to see ye so weel."
And she left me and I slept again till daybreak.
When I awoke again it was morning, just such a day as the last, frosty and clear and bright. I saw by the bustle that the camp was making preparations for starting, and I was so well recovered that I felt fit to join them. I no longer needed to be borne like a child in a litter, but could mount horse and ride with the best of them.
I had risen and gone out to the encampment and was watching the activity of man and beast, when one advanced from the throng toward me. He was a very tall, handsome man, dark in face as a Spaniard, with fine curling moustachios. He wore a broad blue bonnet on his head, his coat was of good green cloth and his small-clothes of black. At his side he carried a sword and in his belt a brace of pistols, and save for a certain foreign air in his appearance he seemed as fine a gentleman as one could see in the land. He advanced to me and made me a very courtly bow, which I returned as well as my still-aching back permitted me.
"I am glad you are recovered, Master John Burnet," said he, speaking excellent English, though with the broad accent which is customary to our Scots lowlands. "Permit me to make myself known to you. I have the honour to be Captain William Baillie at your service, captain of the ragged regiment and the Egyptian guards." All this he said with as fine an air as if he were His Majesty's first general.
At the mention of his name I called to mind all I had heard of this extraordinary man, the chief of all the south-country gipsies, and a character as famous in those days and in those parts as Claverhouse or my lord the King. He claimed to be a bastard of the house of Lamington, and through his mother he traced descent, also by the wrong side of the blanket, to the Gay Gordons themselves. Something of his assumed gentrice showed in his air and manner, which was haughty and lofty as any lord's in the land. But in his face, among wild passions and unbridled desires, I read such shrewd kindliness that I found it in my heart to like him. Indeed, while the tales of his crimes are hawked at every fair, the tales of his many deeds of kindness are remembered in lonely places by folk who have cause to bless the name of Baillie. This same captain had indeed the manners of a prince, for when he bought anything he was wont to give his purse in payment, and indignantly refuse to receive change of any kind. It is only fair to add that the money was not got by honest means, but by the plunder of the rich and churlish. Yet though his ways were roguish his acts were often most Christian-like and courteous, and there were worse men in higher places that this William Baillie. More, he was reputed the best swordsman in all Scotland, though, as being barred from the society of men of birth and education, his marvellous talent was seldom seen. He was of the most indomitable courage and self-possession, and even in the court, when on his trial, he spoke fearlessly to his judges. I do not seek to defend him; but to me and mine he did a good deed and I would seek to be grateful. When long afterwards he was killed in a brawl in the alehouse of Newarthill, I heard the tidings with some sorrow, for he died bravely, though in an ignoble quarrel.
He now informed me with great civility of the incidents of my escape and sickness. When I thanked him he waved me off with a great air.
"Tut, tut," said he, "that is a small matter between gentlefolk. I have often had kindness from your father, and it is only seemly that I should do my best for the son. Besides, it is not in my nature to see a man so sore pressed by the soldiery and not seek to deliver him. It is a predicament I have so often been in myself."
A horse was brought for me, a little wiry animal, well suited for hills and sure-footed as a goat. When I felt myself in the saddle once again, even though it were but a gipsy hallion, I was glad; for to one who has scrambled on his own feet for so many days, a horse is something like an earnest of better times. Captain Baillie bade me come with him to another place, where he showed me a heap of gipsy garments. "It is necessary," said he, "if you would ride with us that you change your appearance. One of your figure riding among us would be too kenspeckle to escape folk's notice. You must let me stain your face, too, with the juice which we make for our bairns' cheeks. It will wash off when you want it, but till that time it will be as fast as sunburn." So taking a crow's feather and dipping it in a little phial, he with much skill passed it over my whole face and hands. Then he held a mirror for me to look, and lo and behold, I was as brown as a gipsy or a Barbary Moor. I laughed loud and long at my appearance, and when I was bidden put on a long green coat, the neighbour of the captain's, and a pair of stout untanned riding-boots, I swear my appearance was as truculent as the roughest tinker's.
Thus accoutred we set out, the men riding in front in pairs and threes, the women behind with donkeys and baggage shelties. It was a queer picture, for the clothing of all was bright-coloured, and formed a strange contrast with the clear, chilly skies and the dim moor. There was no fear of detection, for apart from the company that I was with, my disguise was so complete that not even the most vigilant dragoon could spy me out. Our road was that which I had already travelled often to my own great wearinessdown Tweed by Rachan and the Mossfennan haughs. I had no guess at our destination; so when at Broughton we turned to the westward and headed through the moss towards the town of Biggar, I was not surprised. Nay, I was glad, for it brought me nearer to the west country and Smitwood, whither I desired to go with the utmost speed. For with my returning health my sorrows and cares came back to me more fiercely than ever. It could not be that my cousin should find out Marjory's dwelling-place at once, for in the letter there was no clear information; only indefinite hints, which in time would bring him there. The hope of my life was to reach the house before him and rescue my love, though I had no fixed plan in my mind and would have been at a sore loss for aid. Nevertheless, I was quieter in spirit, and more hopeful. For, after all, thought I, though Gilbert get my lass, he yet has me to deal with, and I will follow him to the world's end ere I let him be.