Books: In Freedom\'s Cause

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"In with your oars, lads, and rig the mast, reef down the sail to
the last point; we must show a little to keep her dead before the
wind; we shall have a tremendous sea when we are once fairly away
from the shelter of the island. This gale will soon knock up the
sea, and with the cross swell from the Atlantic it will be as much
as we can do to carry through it."

The mast was stepped and a mere rag of sail hoisted, but this was
sufficient to drive the boat through the water at a great speed.
The old fisherman was steering now, and when the sail was hoisted
the four men all gathered in the stern of the boat.

"You will go between Islay and Jura, I suppose," one of the younger
men said.

"Ay," his father said briefly; "the sea will be too high to windward
of Islay."

"Could we not keep inside Jura?" Archie suggested; "and shelter in
some of the harbours on the coast of Argyle?"

"Ay," the old man said; "could we be sure of doing that it would
be right enough, but, strong as the wind is blowing her, it will
be stronger still when we get in the narrow waters between the
islands and the mainland, and it would be impossible to keep her
even a point off the wind; then if we missed making a harbour we
should be driven up through the Strait of Corrievrekan, and the
biggest ship which sails from a Scottish port would not live in the
sea which will be running there. No, it will be bad enough passing
between Islay and Jura; if we get safely through that I shall try
to run into the narrow strait between Colonsay and Oronsay; there
we should have good and safe shelter. If we miss that, we must
run inside Mull -- for there will be no getting without it -- and
either shelter behind Lismore island far up the strait, or behind
Kerara, or into the passage to Loch Etive."

"It will not be the last, I hope," Archie said, "for there stands
Dunstaffnage Castle, and the lands all belong to the MacDougalls.
It is but two months back I was a prisoner there, and though I then
escaped, assuredly if I again get within its walls I shall never
go out again. As well be drowned here."

"Then we will hope," the fisherman said, "that `tis into some other
harbour that this evil wind may blow us; but as you see, young sir,
the gale is the master and not we, and we must needs go where it
chooses to take us."

Fiercer and fiercer blew the gale; a tremendous cross sea was now
running, and the boat, stout and buoyant as she was, seemed every
moment as if she would be engulfed in the chaos of water. Small as
the sail had been it had been taken down and lashed with ropes to
the yard, so that now only about three square feet of canvas was
set.

"We can show a little more," the fisherman shouted in Archie's ear,
"when we get abreast of Islay, for we shall then be sheltered from
the sea from the west, and can run more boldly with only a following
sea; but till we get out of this cross tumble we must not carry
on, we only want steerage way to keep her head straight."

Never before had Archie Forbes seen a great gale in all its strength
at sea, for those which had occurred while at Rathlin were as nothing
to the present; and although on the hillside round Glen Cairn the
wind sometimes blew with a force which there was no withstanding,
there was nothing to impress the senses as did this wild confusion
and turmoil of water. Buoyant as was the boat, heavy seas often broke
on board her, and two hands were constantly employed in bailing;
still Archie judged from the countenance of the men that they did
not deem the position desperate, and that they believed the craft
would weather the gale. Towards midday, although the wind blew
as strongly as ever, there was a sensible change in the motion of
the boat. She no longer was tossed up and down with jerky and sudden
motion, as the waves seemed to rise directly under her, but rose
and fell on the following waves with a steady and regular motion.

"We are well abreast of Islay," the old fisherman said when Archie
remarked on the change to him. "There! do you not see that dark
bank through the mist; that is Islay. We have no longer a cross sea,
and can show a little more sail to keep her from being pooped. We
will bear a little off toward the land -- we must keep it in sight,
and not too far on our left, otherwise we may miss the straits and
run on to Jura."

A little more sail was accordingly shown to the gale, and the boat
scudded along at increased speed.

"How far is it to Colonsay?" Archie asked.

"Between fifty and sixty miles from Rathlin," the fisherman said.
"It was eight o'clock when we started, ten when the squall struck
us, it will be dark by four, and fast as we are running we shall
scarcely be in time to catch the last gleam of day. Come, boys,"
he said to his sons, "give her a little more canvas still, for it
is life and death to reach Colonsay before nightfall, for if we
miss it we shall be dashed on to the Mull long before morning."

A little more sail was accordingly shown, and the boat tore through
the water at what seemed to Archie to be tremendous speed; but she
was shipping but little water now, for though the great waves as
they neared her stern seemed over and over again to Archie as if
they would break upon her and send her instantly to the bottom,
the stout boat always lifted lightly upon them until he at length
felt free from apprehension on that score. Presently the fisherman
pointed out a dark mass over their other bow.

"That is Jura," he said; "we are fair for the channel, lads, but
you must take in the sail again to the smallest rag, for the wind
will blow through the gap between the islands with a force fit to
tear the mast out of her."

Through the rest of his life Archie Forbes regarded that passage
between Islay and Jura as the most tremendous peril he had ever
encountered. Strong as the wind had been before, it was as nothing
to the force with which it swept down the strait -- the height of
the waves was prodigious, and the boat, as it passed over the crest
of a wave, seemed to plunge down a very abyss. The old fisherman
crouched low in the boat, holding the helm, while the other three
lay on the planks in the bottom. Speech was impossible, for the
loudest shouts would have been drowned in the fury of the storm. In
half an hour the worst was over. They were through the straits and
out in the open sea again, but Islay now made a lee for them, and
the sea, high as it was, was yet calm in comparison to the tremendous
waves in the Strait of Jura. More sail was hoisted again, and in
an hour the fisherman said, "Thank God, there are the islands."
The day was already fading, and Archie could with difficulty make
out the slightly dark mass to which the helm pointed.

"Is that Colonsay?" he asked.

"It is Oronsay," the fisherman said. "The islands are close together
and seem as if they had once been one, but have been cleft asunder
by the arm of a giant. The strait between them is very narrow, and
once within it we shall be perfectly sheltered. We must make as
close to the point of the island as we can well go, so as not to
touch the rocks, and then turn and enter the strait. If we keep
out any distance we shall be blown past the entrance, and then our
only remaining chance is to try and run her on to Colonsay, and
take the risk of being drowned as she is dashed upon the rocks."

The light had almost faded when they ran along at the end of Oronsay.
Archie shuddered as he saw the waves break upon the rocks and fly
high up into the air, and felt how small was the chance of their
escape should they be driven on a coast like that. They were but
fifty yards from the point when they came abreast of its extremity;
then the fisherman put down the helm and turned her head towards
the strait, which opened on their left.

"Down with the sail and mast, lads, and out with your oars; we must
row her in."

Not a moment was lost, the sail was lowered, the mast unstepped,
and the oars got out, with a speed which showed how urgent was
the occasion. Archie, who did not feel confidence in his power
to manager her now in such a sea, took his seat by the man on the
stroke thwart, and double banked his oar. Five minutes desperate
rowing and they were under shelter of Oronsay, and were rowing more
quickly up the narrow strait and towards the shore of Colonsay,
where they intended to land. A quarter of an hour more and they
stepped ashore.

The old fisherman raised his hat reverently. "Let us thank God
and all the saints," he said, "who have preserved us through such
great danger. I have been nigh fifty years at sea, and never was
out in so wild a gale."

For a few minutes all stood silent and bare headed, returning
fervent thanks for their escape.

"It is well," the old man said, as they moved inland, "that I have
been so far north before; there are but few in Rathlin who have
even been north of Islay, but sometimes when fish have been very
plentiful in the island, and the boat for Ayr had already gone,
I have taken up a boatload of fish to the good monks of Colonsay,
who, although fairly supplied by their own fishermen, were yet
always ready to pay a good price for them. Had you been in a boat
with one who knew not the waters, assuredly we must have perished,
for neither skill nor courage could have availed us. There! do you
see that light ahead? That is the priory, and you may be sure of
a welcome there."

The priory door was opened at their ring, and the monk who unclosed
it, greatly surprised at visitors on such a night, at once bade
them enter when he heard that they were fishermen whom the storm
had driven to shelter on the island. The fishermen had to lend
their aid to the monk to reclose the door, so great was the power
of the wind. The monk shot the bolts, saying, "We need expect no
further visitors tonight;" and led them into the kitchen, where a
huge fire was blazing.

"Quick, brother Austin," he said to the monk, who acted as cook,
"warm up a hot drink for these poor souls, for they must assuredly
be well nigh perished with cold, seeing that they have been wet
for many hours and exposed to all the violence of this wintry gale."

Archie and his companions were, indeed, stiff with cold and exposure,
and could scarce answer the questions which the monks asked them.

"Have patience, brother! have patience!" brother Austin said. "When
their tongues are unfrozen doubtless they will tell you all that
you want to know. Only wait, I pray you, till they have drunk this
posset which I am preparing."

The monk's curiosity was not, however, destined to be so speedily
satisfied, for just as the voyagers were finishing their hot drinks
a monk entered with a message that the prior, having heard that
some strangers had arrived, would fain welcome and speak with them
in his apartment. They rose at once.

"When the prior has done questioning you," brother Austin said,
"return hither at once. I will set about preparing supper for you,
for I warrant me you must need food as well as drink. Fear not but,
however great your appetite may be, I will have enough to satisfy
it ready by the time you return."

"Welcome to Colonsay!" the prior said, as the four men entered his
apartment; "but stay -- I see you are drenched to the skin; and it
were poor hospitality, indeed, to keep you standing thus even to
assure you of your welcome. Take them," he said to the monk, "to
the guest chamber at once, and furnish them with changes of attire.
When they are warm and comfortable return with them hither."

In ten minutes Archie and his companions re-entered the prior's
room. The prior looked with some astonishment at Archie; for in
the previous short interview he had not noticed the difference in
their attire, and had supposed them to be four fishermen. The monk,
however, had marked the difference; and on inquiry, finding that
Archie was a knight, had furnished him with appropriate attire.
The good monks kept a wardrobe to suit guests of all ranks, seeing
that many visitors came to the holy priory, and that sometimes the
wind and waves brought them to shore in such sorry plight that a
change of garments was necessary.

"Ah!" the prior said, in surprise; "I crave your pardon sir knight,
that I noticed not your rank when you first entered. The light is
somewhat dim, and as you stood there together at the door way I
noticed not that you were of superior condition to the others."

"That might well be, holy prior," Archie said, "seeing that we
were more like drowned beasts than Christian men. We have had a
marvellous escape from the tempest -- thanks to God and his saints!
-- seeing that we were blown off Rathlin, and have run before the
gale down past Islay and through the Straits of Jura. Next to the
protection of God and His saints, our escape is due to the skill
and courage of my brave companions here, who were as cool and calm
in the tempest as if they had been sitting by the ingle fires at
home."

"From Rathlin!" the prior said in surprise, "and through the strait
`twixt Islay and Jura! Truly that was a marvellous voyage in such
a gale - and as I suppose, in an open boat. But how comes it,
sir knight -- if I may ask the question without prying into your
private affairs -- that you, a knight, were at Rathlin? In so wild
and lonely an island men of your rank are seldom to be found."

"There are many there now, holy prior, far higher in rank than
myself," Archie replied, "seeing that Robert the Bruce, crowned King
of Scotland, James Douglas, and others of his nobles and knights,
are sheltering there with him from the English bloodhounds."

"The Bruce at Rathlin!" the prior exclaimed, in surprise. "The
last ship which came hither from the mainland told us that he was
a hunted fugitive in Lennox; and we deemed that seeing the MacDougalls
of Lorne and all the surrounding chiefs were hostile to him, and
the English scattered thickly over all the low country, he must
long ere this have fallen into the hands of his enemies."

"Thanks to Heaven's protection," Archie said devoutly, "the king
with a few followers escaped and safely reached Rathlin!"

"Thou shouldst not speak of Heaven's protection," the prior said,
sternly, "seeing that Bruce has violated the sanctuary of the
church, has slain his enemy within her walls, has drawn down upon
himself the anathema of the pope, and has been declared excommunicated
and accursed."

"The pope, holy father," Archie replied, "although supreme in
all holy things, is but little qualified to judge of the matter,
seeing that he draws his information from King Edward, under whose
protection he lives. The good Bishops of St. Andrews and Glasgow,
with the Abbot of Scone, and many other dignitaries of the Scottish
church, have condoned his offense, seeing that it was committed
in hot blood and without prior intent. The king himself bitterly
regrets the deed, which preys sorely upon his mind; but I can answer
for it that Bruce had no thought of meeting Comyn at Dumfries."

"You speak boldly, young sir," the prior said, sternly, "for one
over whose head scarce two-and-twenty years can have rolled; but
enough now. You are storm staid and wearied; you are the guests of
the convent. I will not keep you further now, for you have need
of food and sleep. Tomorrow I will speak with you again."

So saying, the prior sharply touched a bell which stood on a table
near him. The monk re-entered. The prior waved his hand: "Take these
guests to the refectory and see that they have all they stand in
need of, and that the bed chambers are prepared. In the morning I
would speak to them again.

Chapter XV A Mission to Ireland

Father Austin was as good as his word, and it was long indeed
since Archie had sat down to such a meal as that which was spread
for him. Hungry as he was, however, he could scarce keep his eyes
open to its conclusion, so great was the fatigue of mind and body;
and on retiring to the chamber which the monks had prepared for
him, he threw himself on a couch and instantly fell asleep. In
the morning the gale still blew violently, but with somewhat less
fury than on the preceding evening. He joined the monks at their
morning meal in the refectory, and after their repast they gathered
round him to listen to his news of what was doing in Scotland; for
although at ordinary times pilgrims came not unfrequently to visit
the holy isle of Colonsay, in the present stormy times men stirred
but little from home, and it was seldom that the monks obtained news
of what was passing on the mainland. Presently a servitor brought
word that the prior would see Archie.

"It was ill talking last night," the prior said, "with a man hungry
and worn out; but I gathered from what you said that you are not
only a follower of Bruce, but that you were with him at that fatal
day at Dumfries when he drew his dagger upon Comyn in the sanctuary."

"I was there, holy father," Archie replied, "and can testify that
the occurrence was wholly unpremeditated; but Bruce had received
sufficient provocation from the Comyn to afford him fair reason for
slaying him wheresoever they might meet. But none can regret more
than he does that that place of meeting was in a sanctuary. The
Comyn and Bruce had made an agreement together whereby the former
relinquished his own claims to the throne of Scotland on condition
that Bruce, on attaining the throne, would hand over to him all
his lordships in Carrick and Annandale."

"It were a bad bargain," the prior said, "seeing that Comyn would
then be more powerful than his king."

"So I ventured to tell the Bruce," Archie replied.

"Thou?" the prior said; "you are young, sir, to be in a position
to offer counsel to Robert Bruce."

"I am young, holy prior," Archie said modestly; "but the king is
good enough to overlook my youth in consideration of my fidelity
to the cause of Scotland. My name is Archibald Forbes."

"Sir Archibald Forbes!" the prior repeated, rising; "and are you
really that loyal and faithful Scottish knight who fought ever by
the side of Wallace, and have almost alone refused ever to bow the
knee to the English? Even to this lonely isle tales have come of
your valour, how you fought side by side with Wallace, and were,
with Sir John Grahame, his most trusty friend and confidant. Many
of the highest and noblest of Scotland have for centuries made
their way to the shrine of Colonsay, but none more worthy to be
our guest. Often have I longed to see so brave a champion of our
country, little thinking that you would one day come a storm driven
guest. Truly am I glad to see you, and I say it even though you may
have shared in the deed at Dumfries, for which I would fain hope
from your words there is fairer excuse to be made than I had hitherto
deemed. I have thought that the Bishops of St. Andrews and Glasgow
were wrong in giving their countenance to a man whom the holy
father had condemned -- a man whose prior history gives no ground
for faith in his patriotism, who has taken up arms, now for, now
against, the English, but has ever been ready to make terms with
the oppressor, and to parade as his courtier at Westminster. In
such a man I can have no faith, and deem that, while he pretends
to fight for Scotland, he is in truth but warring for his
own aggrandizement. But since you, the follower and friend of the
disinterested and intrepid champion of Scotland, speak for the
Bruce, it maybe that my judgement has been too severe upon him."

Archie now related the incident of his journey to London to urge
Bruce to break with Edward and to head the national movement. He
told how, even before the discovery of his agreement with Comyn,
brought about by the treachery of the latter, Bruce had determined
definitely to throw in his cause with that of Scotland; how upon
that discovery he had fled north, and, happening to meet Comyn at
Dumfries, within the limits of the sanctuary, had, in his indignation
and ire at his treachery, drawn and slain him. Then he told the
tale of what had taken place after the rout of Methven, how bravely
Bruce had borne himself, and had ever striven to keep up the hearts
of his companions; how cheerfully he had supported the hardships,
and how valiantly he had borne himself both at Methven and when
attacked by the MacDougalls of Lorne.

"Whatever his past may have been," Archie concluded, "I hold that
now the Bruce is as earnest in the cause of Scotland as was even
my dear leader Wallace. In strength and in courage he rivals that
valiant knight, for though I hold that Wallace was far more than
a match for any man of his time, yet Bruce is a worthy second to
him, for assuredly no one in Scotland could cross swords with him
on equal chances. That he will succeed in his enterprise it were
rash to say, for mighty indeed are the odds against him; but if
courage, perseverance, and endurance can wrest Scotland from the
hands of the English, Robert Bruce will, if he lives, accomplish
the task."

"Right glad am I," the prior replied, "to hear what you have told
me. Hitherto, owing to my memory of his past and my horror at his
crime -- for though from what you tell me there was much to excuse
it, still it was a grievous crime -- I have had but little interest
in the struggle, but henceforth this will be changed. You may
tell the king that from this day, until death or victory crown his
efforts, prayers will be said to heaven night and day at Colonsay
for his success."

It was four days before the storm was over and the sea sufficiently
calmed to admit of Archie's departure. During that time he remained
as the honoured guest of the priory, and the good monks vied with
the prior in their attentions to the young knight, the tales of
whose doings, as one of Scotland's foremost champions, had so often
reached their lonely island. At the end of that time, the sea being
now calm and smooth, with a light wind from the north, Archie bade
adieu to his hosts and sailed from Colonsay.

Light as the wind was, it sufficed to fill the sail; and as the boat
glided over the scarce rippled water Archie could not but contrast
the quiet sleepy motion with the wild speed at which the boat had
torn through the water on her northern way. It was not until the
following morning that Rathlin again came in sight.

As the boat was seen approaching, and was declared by the islanders
to be that which they had regarded as lost in the storm a week
previously, the king, Douglas, and the rest of his followers made
their way down to the shore; and loud was the shout of welcome
which arose when Archie stood up and waved his hand.

"Verily, Archie Forbes," the king said as he warmly embraced the
young knight, "I shall begin to think that the fairies presided
at your birth and gave you some charm to preserve your life alike
against the wrath of men and of the elements. Never assuredly did
anyone pass through so many dangers unscathed as you have done."

"I hope to pass through as many more, sire, in your service," Archie
said smiling.

"I hope so, indeed," Bruce replied; "for it were an evil day for
me and for Scotland that saw you fall; but henceforth I will fret
no more concerning you. You alone of Wallace's early companions
have survived. You got free from Dunstaffnage by some miracle
which you have never fully explained to me, and now it would seem
that even the sea refuses to swallow you."

"I trust," Archie said more gravely, "that the old saying is not
true in my case, and that hanging is not to be my fate. Assuredly
it will be if I ever fall into the hands of Edward, and I shall
think it a cruel fate indeed if fortune, which has spared me so
often in battle, leads me to that cruel end at last."

"I trust not indeed, Sir Archie," the king said, "though hanging now
has ceased to be a dishonourable death when so many of Scotland's
best and bravest have suffered it at the English hands. However, I
cannot but think that your fairy godmother must have reserved for
you the fate of the heroes of most of the stories of my old nurse,
which always wound up with `and so he married, and lived happily
ever after.' And now, Archie, tell me all that has befallen you,
where you have been, and how you fared, and by what miraculous chance
you escaped the tempest. All our eyes were fixed on the boat when
you laboured to reach the shore, and had you heard the groans
we uttered when we saw you give up the effort as hopeless and fly
away to sea before the wind you would have known how truly all
your comrades love you. We gave you up as assuredly lost, for the
islanders here agreed that you had no chance of weathering the
gale, and that the boat would, ere many hours, be dashed to pieces
either on Islay or Jura, should it even reach so far; but the most
thought that you would founder long ere you came in sight of the
land."

Accompanying the king with his principal companions to the hut
which he occupied, Archie related the incidents of the voyage and
of their final refuge at Colonsay.

"It was a wonderful escape," the king said when be finished, "and
the holy Virgin and the saints must assuredly have had you in their
especial care. You have cost us well nigh a fortune, for not one
of us but vowed offerings for your safety, which were, perchance,
the more liberal, since we deemed the chances of paying them so
small. However, they shall be redeemed, for assuredly they have
been well earned, and for my share I am bound, when I come to my
own, to give a piece of land of the value of one hundred marks a
year to the good monks of St. Killian's to be spent in masses for
the souls of those drowned at sea."

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