The Starling Part 13

"Pfuff!" said Jock. "As to that, gudeman, I hae been in every jail roon' aboot! A jail wad be comfort tae me compared wi' the hole I sleepit in the nicht I left Drumsylie, and the road I hae travelled sinsyne! But wull ye no' hear me about Adam Mercer?"

Spence could not comprehend the character he had to deal with, but beginning to think him probably "a natural", he told him to "say awa', as the t.i.tlin' remarked tae the gowk".

Jock now gathered all his wits about him, so as to be able to give a long and tolerably lucid history of the events which were then agitating the little world of Drumsylie, and of which the Sergeant was the centre.

He particularly described the part that Mr. Smellie had taken in the affair, and, perhaps, from more than one grudge he bore to the said gentleman, he made him the chief if not the only real enemy of the Sergeant.

The only point which Jock failed to make intelligible to the keeper was his account of the starling. It may have been the confusion of ideas incident to old age when dealing with subjects which do not link themselves to the past; but so it was that there got jumbled up in the keeper's mind such a number of things connected with a bird which was the bairn of the Sergeant's bairn, and whistled songs, and told Jock he was a man, and disturbed the peace of the parish, and broke the Sabbath, and deposed the Sergeant, that he could not solve the mystery for himself, nor could Jock make it clear. He therefore accepted Spence's confusion as the natural result of a true estimate of the facts of the case, which few but the Kirk Session could understand, and accordingly he declared that "the bird was a kin' o' witch, a maist extraordinar'

cratur, that seemed to ken a' things, and unless he was mista'en wad pit a' things richt gin the hinner en'". The keeper declared "his detestation o' a' speaking birds"; and his opinion that "birds were made for shootin', or for ha'ein' their necks thrawn for eatin'--unless when layin' or hatchin'".

But what practical object, it may be asked, had Hall in view in this volunteer mission of his? It was, as he told the keeper, to get him to ask his Lordship, as being the greatest man in the district, to interfere in the matter and by all possible means to get Smellie, if not Mr. Porteous, muzzled. "Ye're Adam's coosin, I hear," said Jock, "and the head man wi' his Lordship, and ye hae but tae speak the word and deliver the Sergeant an' his bird frae the grips o' these deevils."

Jock had, however, touched a far sorer point than he was aware of when he described Smellie as the propagator of the early history of the Sergeant as a poacher. This, along with all that had been narrated, so roused the indignation of Spence, who had the warmest regard for the Sergeant, apart from his being his cousin and from the fact of his having connived in some degree at his poaching, that, forgetting for a moment the polluted presence of a confessed poacher like Hall, he told him to call Hugh; adding, however, "What wull he do if he kens what ye are, my man? It's easy to get oot o' the teeth o' an auld doug like me, wha's a guid bit aboon fourscore. But Hugh!--faix he wad pit baith o'

us ower his head! What _wad_ he say if he kent a poacher was sitting at his fireside?"

"I didna say, Mr. Spence, that I _am_ a poacher, but that I was ane; nor did I say that I wad ever be ane again; nor could Hugh or ony ane else pruve mair than has been pruved a'ready against me, and paid for by sowl and body to jails and judges: sae let that flee stick to the wa'!"

answered Jock; and having done so, he went to the door, and, with stentorian lungs, called the younger keeper so as to wake up all the dogs with howl and bark as if they had been aware of the poaching habits of the shouter.

As Hugh came to the door, at which Jock calmly stood, he said to him in a careless tone, like one who had known him all his life: "Yer faither wants ye;" and, entering the kitchen, he resumed his former seat, folding his arms and looking at the fire.

"Wha the sorrow hae ye gotten here, faither, cheek by jowl wi' ye?"

asked the tall and powerful keeper, scanning Jock with a most critical eye.

"A freen' o' my cousin's, Adam Mercer," replied old Spence. "But speer ye nae questions, Hugh, and ye'll get nae lees. He has come on business that I'll tell ye aboot. But tak' him ben in the meantime, and gie him some bread and cheese, wi' a drap milk, till his supper's ready. He'll stay here till morning. Mak' a bed ready for him in the laft."

Hugh, in the absence of his wife, obeyed his father's orders, though not without a rather strong feeling of lessened dignity as a keeper in being thus made the servant of a ragged-looking tramp. While Jock partook of his meal in private, and afterwards went out to smoke his pipe and look about him, Old Spence entered into earnest conference with his son Hugh.

After giving his rather confused and muddled, yet sufficiently correct, edition of Mercer's story, he concentrated his whole attention and that of his son on the fact that Peter Smellie was the enemy of Adam Mercer, and had been so for some time; that he had joined the minister to persecute him; and, among other things, had also revealed the story of Adam's poaching more than thirty years before, to raise prejudice against his character and that of Spence as a keeper.

"Wha's Smellie? I dinna mind him," asked Hugh.

"Nae loss, Hugh!--nae loss at a'. I never spak' o't to onybody afore, and ye'll no clipe aboot it, for every dog should hae his chance; and if a man should miss wi' ae barrel, he may nevertheless. .h.i.t wi' the t.i.ther; and I dinna want to fash the man mair than is necessar'. But this same Smellie had a shop here at the clachan aboon twenty years syne, and I got him custom frae the Castle; an' didna the rogue--Is the door steekit?" asked the old man in a whisper. Hugh nodded. "An' didna the rogue," continued old John, "forge my name tae a bill for 50? That did he; and I could hae hanged him! But I never telt on him till this hour, but made him pay the half o't, and I paid the ither half mysel'; and Adam see'd me sae distressed for the money that he gied me 5 in a present tae help. Naebody kent o't excep' mysel' and Adam, wha was leevin' here at the time, and saw it was a forgery; and I axed him _never_ to say a word aboot it, and I'll wager he never did, for a clean-speerited man and honourable is Adam Mercer! Weel, Smellie by my advice left the kintraside for Drumsylie, and noo he's turning against Adam! Isna that awfu'? Is't no' deevilish? Him like a doug pointing at Adam! As weel a moose point at a gled!"

"That's a particular bonnie job indeed," said Hugh. "I wad like to pepper the sneaky chiel wi' snipe-dust for't. But what can be dune noo?"

"Dune! Mair than Smellie wad like, and enouch to mak' him lowse his grip o' Adam!" said the old man. "I hae a letter till him bamboozlin'

my head, and I'll maybe grip it in the mornin' and pit it on paper afore breakfast-time! Be ye ready to write it doon as I tell ye, and it'll start Smellie ower his wabs and braid claith, or I'm mista'en!"

Hugh was ordered to meet his father in the morning to indite the intended epistle.

CHAPTER XVI

FISHERS AND FISHING

As the evening drew on, the family who occupied the keeper's house gathered together like crows to their rookery. Mrs. Hugh, who had been helping at a large washing in "the big house", returned with a blythe face, full of cheer and womanly kindness.

"Hech! but I hae had sic a day o't! What a washing! an' it's no' half dune! But wha hae we here?" she asked, as she espied Jock seated near the fire. "Dae I ken ye?" she further inquired, looking at him with a sceptical smile, as if she feared to appear rude to one whom she ought, perhaps, to have recognised.

Jock, with a sense of respect due to her, rose, and said, "I houp no', for maybe I wad be nae credit tae ye as an acqua'ntance."

"A freen' o' my cousin's, Adam Mercer, o' Drumsylie," remarked old Spence. "Sit doon, my man!"

"I'm glad tae see ye," said the happy sonsy wife, stretching out her hand to Jock, who took it reluctantly, and gazed in the woman's face with an awkward expression.

"It's been saft weather, and bad for travellin', and ye hae come a far gait," she continued; and forthwith began to arrange her house. Almost at her heels the children arrived. There were two flaxen-haired girls, one ten and the other about twelve, with bare feet, and their locks tied up like sheaves of ripe golden grain. Then came in a stout lad of about seven, from school and play. All looked as fresh and full of life as young roe from the forest.

"Gang awa', bairns, and snod yersels," said Mrs. Hugh.

"This man," said old Spence, who was jealous of his authority over the household, pointing to Jock, "wull tak' his supper wi' us. He's tae sleep in the stable-laft."

"He's welcome, he's welcome," said Mrs. Hugh. "The bed's nae braw, but it's clean, and it's our best for strangers."

The last to enter, as the sun was setting, was John, the eldest, a lad of about fourteen, the very picture of a pure-eyed, ruddy-complexioned, healthy, and happy lad. He had left school to a.s.sist his father in attending to his duties.

"What luck, Johnnie?" asked his father, as the boy entered with his fishing basket over his shoulder.

"Middlin' only," replied John; "the water was raither laigh, and the tak' wasna guid. There were plenty o' rises, but the troots were unco shy. But I hae gotten, for a' that, a guid wheen;" and he unslung his basket and poured out from it a number of fine trout.

Jock's attention was now excited. Here was evidence of an art which he flattered himself he understood, and could speak about with some authority.

"Pretty fair," was his remark, as he rose and examined them; "whaur got ye them?"

"In the Blackcraig water," replied the boy.

"Let me luik at yer flee, laddie?" asked Jock. The boy produced it.

"Heckle, bad!--ye should hae tried a teal's feather on a day like this."

Johnnie looked with respect at the stranger. "Are ye a fisher?" he asked.

"I hae tried my han'," said Jock. And so the conversation began, until soon the two were seated together at the window. Then followed such a talk on the mysteries of the craft as none but students of the angle could understand:--the arrangement and effect of various "dressings", of wings, bodies, heckles, &c., being discussed with intense interest, until all acknowledged Jock as a master.

"Ye seem tae understan' the business weel," remarked Hugh.

"I wad need," replied Jock. "When a man's life, no' to speak o' his pleasure, depen's on't, he needs tae fish wi' a watchfu' e'e and canny han'. But at a' times, toom or hungry, it's a great divertees.e.m.e.nt!"

Both Johnnie and his father cordially a.s.sented to the truth of the sentiment.

"Eh, man!" said Jock, thus encouraged to speak on a favourite topic, "what a conceit it is when ye reach a fine run on a warm spring mornin', the wuds hotchin' wi' birds, an' dauds o' licht noos and thans glintin'

on the water; an' the water itsel' in trim order, a wee doon, after a nicht's spate, and wi' a drap o' porter in't, an' rowin' and bubblin'

ower the big stanes, curlin' into the linn and oot o't; and you up tae the henches in a dark neuk whaur the fish canna see ye; an' than to get a lang cast in the breeze that soughs in the bushes, an' see yer flee licht in the vera place ye want, quiet as a midge lichts on yer nose, or a b.u.mbee on a flower o' clover, an'----"

Johnnie was bursting with almost as much excitement as Jock, but did not interrupt him except with a laugh expressive of his delight.

"An' than," continued Jock, "whan a muckle chiel' o' a salmon, wi'oot time tae consider whether yer flee is for his wame or only for his mooth--whether it's made by natur' or by Jock Hall--plays flap! and by mistak' gangs to digest what he has gotten for his breakfast, but suspec's he canna swallow the line alang wi' his mornin' meal till he taks some exercise!--an' then tae see the line ticht, and the rod bendin' like a heuk, and tae fin' something gaun frae the fish up the line and up the rod till it reaches yer verra heart, that gangs _pit pat_ at yer throat like a tickin' watch; until the bonnie cratur', efter rinnin' up and doon like mad, noo skulkin' aside a stane tae cure his teethache, then bilkin' awa' wi' a scunner at the line and trying every dodge, syne gies in, comes tae yer han' clean beat in fair play, and lies on the bank sayin' 'Wae's me' wi' his tail, an' makin' his will wi'

his gills and mooth time aboot!--eh, man, it's splendid!" Jock wearied himself with the description.

"Whaur hae ye fished?" asked Hugh, after a pause during which he had evidently enjoyed Jock's description.