The Starling Part 10

Jock was suddenly quiet, as if arrested by some strong power. Then in a more natural tone of voice he said, "It's no' worth the while o' an auld sodger to kick a man like me. But let sleepin' dougs lie! Dougs hae teeth, and their bite is bad when mad--when mad!" Then, after a pause, he went on, in a laughing mood, "But I _hae_ business, important business wi' ye, Sergeant; an' afore we proceed to consider it, ye'll tak' a snuff! It pits brains into a bodie's head;" and Jock produced a small tin snuff-box, and opening the lid he looked into it with an expression of anxiety. "There's twa, I'm sure,--twa snuffs; an' I consider a man is no' poor wha has ae snuff for himsel' and anither for a neebor. Sae tak' a snuff!" and he handed the box to the Sergeant, as he himself leant back in his chair, crossed one leg over another, and pointing to his boots said, "That's some business, since ye insist on it! I want to gie ye a job, Mr. Mercer, for I hear ye're idle." Then turning up the soles of his wretched boots, which looked like a kind of leather vegetable about to rot into earth mould, he said, "They'll be ill to patch, or to fit new soles on, but I ken ye're a gude tradesman.

Try."

Adam only smiled.

"Ye'll be like the lave," Jock continued, "ower prood to work for a man like me. I wadna wunner if ye're no sure o' payment. Sae maybe it's as weel to tell ye, that as far as I ken, ye'll never get a bawbee frae me!

For Jock Hall is a braw customer to them that'll ser' him--though, faix, there's no mony o' that kind noo!--but he's a bad payer. In fac, he has clean forgot hoo to pay an account."

Sorrow softens the hearts of good men; and if it is in any degree occasioned by unjust treatment, it prompts charitable sympathies towards others who are condemned as wicked by society without a fair hearing ever having been afforded them. When the streams of their affection have been frozen by the cold reception given where a warm welcome was antic.i.p.ated, it is a relief to let them flow into other and dried-up cisterns where, in despair, from a long drought, such blessings were never expected, and are joyfully appreciated.

So Adam felt kindly towards Jock, though he only said, "I'll men' your boots for that fine pinch o' snuff, and they'll cost ye nae mair, except guidwill, and that's cheap."

Jock Hall looked rather perplexed, and cleared out his box with his long finger, pressing his last snuff vehemently into his nostril. Then resuming, as if with difficulty, his careless manner, he said, "Hae the boots ready by Friday nicht, as I maun fish the East Muir water on Sat.u.r.day."

"Ye may depend on them, Jock! And noo, as yer business is done, ye may gang." The Sergeant did not wish him to resume his wild talk, as he had threatened to do.

Jock crossed his arms, and gazed on the Sergeant as if he would look him through. Then grasping his own throat, and looking wildly, he said: "It's come! it's come! The evil speerit is chokin' me! He is here like a cannon ball! I maun speak, or my head will rive! I maun curse Porteous, and the kirk, and religion, and elders, and Sabbath days, and a' thing guid!" and his eyes flashed fire.

The Sergeant could not make him out, as they say. He was disposed to think him insane, though he had never heard Jock's name a.s.sociated with anything save recklessness of character. He therefore did nothing but return the gaze of the excited man. Katie, unwilling to sit in the same room with him, had retired to her bedroom. Mary sat at the fireside with her book in evident alarm.

"I hate them!" repeated Jock, almost grinding his teeth.

"What do ye mean, Jock?" asked Adam, quietly but firmly. "Do you want to quarrel wi' me?"

"I mean," said Jock, bending towards the Sergeant, "that noo the fingers o' religion are grippin' _yer_ windpipe and chokin' ye, as the evil speerit is grippin' and chokin' me--that noo ye hae ministers an' elders o' religion kicking ye in the glaur, lauchin at ye, bizzin at ye as a blackguard--that noo when e'en Luckie Craigie an' Smellie ca' ye bad, as a' folks hae ca'ed me a' my days--I thocht," he continued, with a sarcastic grin, "that ye wad like ane waur than yersel' to speak wi' ye, and, if ye liked, to curse wi' ye! Aha, lad! I'm ready! Say the word, and Jock Hall's yer man. I ha'e poower noo in me for ony deevilry.

Begin!"

The Sergeant experienced what is called in Scotland a _grew_--the sort of shiver one feels in a nightmare--as if a real demoniac was in his presence. Fascinated as by a serpent, he said, "Say awa', Jock, for I dinna understan' ye."

On this Jock became apparently more composed. But when with a suppressed vehemence he was again beginning to speak, it struck the Sergeant to interrupt the current of his pa.s.sionate thoughts, on the plea that he wished to hear Mary her lesson. His object was, not only to calm Jock, but also to get the child out of the room.

"Mary," he said, after having a.s.sured her there was no cause of fear, and placing her between his knees, "wha should we trust?"

"G.o.d!" replied Mary.

"Why?" asked the Sergeant.

"Because his name is Love, and He is our Faither."

"Richt, Mary; and we ought a' to love our Faither, for He loves us, and to love our neebour as ourselves. Gang awa' ben to your mither noo. Ye hae done weel."

When the door of the bedroom was shut, Jock Hall said, "That's Luckie Craigie's la.s.sie? Fine woman, Luckie! Kindly bodie! A gude hoose is hers to sen' a puir orphan to. Ha! ha! ha! Keep us a'!--it's a warld this, far ower guid for me! But Luckie is like the lave, and Smellie, to do him justice, as he has mony a time done tae me, is no waur than Luckie:

'When hungry gledds are screichin', An' huntin' for their meat, If they grip a bonnie birdie, What needs the birdie greet?'

An' ye're to pay yersel' for the la.s.sie, Smellie says; an' ye're to teach her! A fine lesson yon! Ha! ha! ha! Jock Hall lauchs at baith o'

ye!"

The Sergeant was getting angry. Hall seemed now to be rather a free-and-easy blackguard, although there was a weird gleam in his eye which Adam did not understand; and in spite of his self-respect, he felt a desire to hear more from Jock. So he only remarked, looking steadily at him, "Jock! tak' care what ye say--tak' care!"

"Oo ay," said Hall. "I'm lang eneuch in the warld to ken _that_ advice!

But what care I for the advice o' you or ony man? It was for me, nae doot, ye intended that lesson? I'm as gleg as a fish rising to a flee!

The la.s.sock said we should love our faither! Hoo daur you or ony man say that tae me?" Then, leaning forward with staring eyes and clenched fist, he said, "I hated my faither! I hated my mither! They hated me.

My faither was a Gospel man; he gaed to the kirk on Sabbath--wha but him!--and he drank when he could get it the rest o' the week; an' he threshed my mither and us time aboot--me warst o' a', as I was the youngest. I focht mony a laddie for lauchin' at him and for ca'in him names when he was fou, and mony a bluidy nose I got; but he threshed me the mair. My mither, tae, gaed to the kirk, and begged claes for me and my brithers and sisters frae guid folk, and said that my faither wasna weel and couldna work. Oh, mony a lee I telt for them baith! And she drank, as weel, and focht wi' my faither and us time aboot. And syne they selt a' their claes and a' their blankets, and left us wi' toom stomachs and toom hearts, cowerin' aboot a toom grate wi' cauld cinders.

I never was at skule, but was cuffed and kickit like a doug; and my wee brithers and sisters a' dee'd--I dinna ken hoo: but they were starved and threshed, puir things! But they were waik, and I was strang. Sae I leeved--waes me! I leeved! I hae sat oot in the plantin' mony a nicht greetin' for my brither Jamie, for he had a sair cough and dwined awa', naked and starved. He aye gied me his bit bread that he stealt or beggit"--and Jock cleared his throat and wiped his forehead with a sc.r.a.p of a ragged handkerchief. "But my faither and mither dee'd, thank G.o.d!

I hate them noo, and they hated me--they hated me, they did"--and he fell into a sort of dream. His vehemence sank into a whisper; and he spoke as one in sleep--"An' a' folks hate me--hate me. An' what for no'? I hate _them_!--G.o.d forgive me! Na, na! I'll no' say _that_.

There's nae G.o.d! But I believe in the Deevil--that I do, firmly."

Jock sank back in his chair, as if wearied, and closed his eyes, his chest heaving. Then opening his eyes, he said in a low tone, "The bird kens that! Wha' telt him?" and his eyes were again closed.

"Jock, my man," said the Sergeant, perplexed, yet kindly, "_I_ dinna hate ye."

But Jock went on as in a dream. "I hae led an awfu' life o't! I hae starved and stealt; I hae poached and robbed; I hae cursed and drank; I hae 'listed and deserted; I hae lain oot on muirs and in mosses. I'm Jock Hall! a'body kens me, and a' hate me as I do them! And what guid did yer ministers and elders, yer Sabbath days and yer preachings, do for me? Curse them a', I say! what's Jock Hall's saul worth! It's no'

worth the burnin'! What care I?

'c.o.c.k-a-Bendy's lying sick, Guess what'll mend him?

Hang the blackguard by the throat, And that'll soon end him!"

"Be quiet, my puir fellow," said the Sergeant, "and listen to me. _I_ never harmed you, Jock; I couldna harm you! I never wull harm you.

I'll feed ye noo; I'll gie ye shoon; I'll stan' yer frien'."

Jock looked up, and in a calm tone said, "My head is spinnin' and my heart is sick! I havena eaten a bit since yesterday. Dinna flyte on me e'enoo, I'm no mysel'; wait a wee, Mr. Mercer, and then ye can abuse me, or kick me." With still greater calm he added in a few seconds, and looking round like one waking up more and more into life, "I hae been dreaming or raving! Man, Mercer, I think I tak' fits sometimes--especially when I'm lang wi'oot meat. What was I saying e'enoo?"

"Naething particular," said Adam, wishing not to rouse him, but to feed him; "never heed, Jock. But bide a wee, I'll gie ye a nice cup of tea and a smoke after it, and we'll hae a crack, and ye'll comfort me in yer ain way, and I'll comfort you in mine."

Jock, like a man worn out with some great exertion, sat with his head bent down between his hands--the veins of his forehead swollen. The Sergeant, after some private explanation with Katie, got tea and wholesome food ready for Jock; and that he might take it in peace, Adam said that he had to give Mary another lesson in the bedroom.

Hall was thus left alone with his food, of which he ate sparingly. When Adam again entered the kitchen, Jock was calm. The Sergeant soon engaged him in conversation after his own method, beginning by telling some of his soldier stories, and then bit by bit unfolding the Gospel of Peace to the poor man, and seeking to drop a few loving words from his own softened heart to soften the heart of the Prodigal.

The only remark Jock made was, "I wish I'd been in a battle, and been shot, or dee'd wi' oor Jamie! But what for did I tell _you_ a' this? I never spak' this way to mortal man! It's that bird, I tell ye. What's wrang wi't?"

"Naething!" replied the Sergeant; "it's a' nonsense ye're talking. I'll let ye see the cratur, to convince ye that he is jist as natural and nice as a mavis or laverock."

"Stop!" said Jock, "I dinna like him. He is ower guid for me! I tell ye I'm a deevil! But bad as I am--and I'll never be better, nor ever do ae haun's turn o' guid in this world--never, never, never!----"

The Sergeant rose and took down the cage, placing it before Hall, saying, "Jist look at his speckled breest and bonnie ee! Gie him this bit bread yersel', and he'll be cheerie, and mak' us a' cheerie."

Jock took the bread and offered it to Charlie, who, seeing the gift, declared "A man's a man for a' that!" "Guid be aboot us!" said Hall, starting back; "hear what he says to me! If that's no' a witch, there's nane on yirth! I said I was a deevil, he says I'm a man!"

"And sae ye _are_ a man for a' that, and no sic a bad ane as ye think.

Cheer up, Jock!" said Adam, extending his hand to him.

Jock took the proffered hand, and said, "I dinna understan' a'

this--but--but--I was gaun to say, G.o.d bless ye! But it's no' for me to say that; for I never was in a decent hoose afore--but only in jails, and amang tramps and ne'er-do-weels like mysel'. I'm no' up tae menners, Sergeant--ye maun excuse me."

Jock rose to depart. Before doing so he looked again round the comfortable clean room--at the nice fire and polished grate--at Charlie's bed with its white curtains--and at the bird, so happy in its cage--then, as if struck by his own ragged clothes and old boots, he exclaimed, "It wasna for me to hae been in a hoose like this." Pa.s.sing the bedroom door, he waved his hand, saying, "Fareweel, mistress; fareweel, Mary," and turning to the Sergeant, he added, "and as for you, Sergeant----" There he stopped--but ending with a special farewell to the starling, he went to the door.

"Come back soon and see me," said the Sergeant. "I'll be yer freen', Jock. I hae 'listed ye this day, and I'll mak' a sodger o' ye yet, an'

a better ane, I hope, than mysel'."