Chapter XI Up in Arms
Twelve o’clock was the usual dinner hour at Hartrigge. In spite of the stirring excitement of that morning, the table was spread punctually at noon, and the family gathered about the board. Before, however, Andrew Gray had finished asking a blessing on the food, the dragoons swept up with a great noise to the front door. Catching sight of a gleaming sword out of the window Jeanie screamed in affright, and her mother’s face visibly paled. But little Sandy, in all a child’s delight over a gay pageant, scrambled up on the window seat, and fairly jumped with glee at sight of so many prancing steeds. With grave, resolute, undisturbed face, Hartrigge rose from his chair, and turned his eyes upon his trembling wife.
“If I lose my life this day, Susan,” he said, quietly, “promise me you will rear the bairns in the true religion, and teach them to love and reverence the Church of Scotland and the faith of their forefathers.”
Mistress Gray had no opportunity to reply, for at that moment the door was rudely thrown open, and Turner, with a corporal and sergeant, strode into the room.
“Andrew Gray of Hartrigge?” he said, briefly and imperiously.
“I am Andrew Gray,” answered Hartrigge, with corresponding brevity.
“A vile Whig and a bigoted Presbyterian, a rebel against the king, and a harbourer of field preachers and like vermin,” continued Turner, in his coarse fashion. “I have just come from Rowallan, but the puling womenfolk there have lost their tongues, and could tell us nothing of those we seek. In the king’s name, Andrew Gray, I command you to instantly tell me where your canting old father, and your brother, the minister of Broomhill, are to be found. Remember you stand at peril of your life.”
Andrew Gray folded his arms across his chest, and looked his questioner in the face with undaunted eye.
“Very well do I know that I stand at peril of my life,” he made answer, calmly. “But I can tell you nothing of those you seek.”
“You will not, you mean,” cried Turner, passionately. “By heavens, the name of Gray seems inseparable from dogged obstinacy, as well as from rebellion and treason. If I tie up your eyes and point a pistol at your mouth it may refresh your memory.”
Hartrigge spoke never a word; his wife sank weeping helplessly into a chair, while the children, all but Gavin, who had left the room, crouched beside her in terror.
“Woman, bid your husband obey orders, unless you want me to leave him to you to bury!” said Turner. “I have already wasted too much precious time among your kind.”
But never a word spoke Mistress Gray. Then Turner looked towards his subordinates—
“Bind the obstinate pig-headed Whig,” he said, briefly. “If I cannot make him speak, we will take him to those who will.”
Susan Gray uttered a loud shriek, and sprang to her husband’s side; but she was rudely cast aside, while the officers pinioned Hartrigge’s arms.
“Stop that howling, woman, or I will give you something to yelp about! I’ve a mind to burn your house about your confounded ears, but it would take too much time to-day. Let the prisoner to horse, and let us be off. We have other game to bag before sunset to-day.”
As Andrew Gray was about to leave the room he stepped to his wife’s side, and hastily bade her be of good cheer, for his time had not come yet; then, looking upon the children with a strange softening in his stern eyes, he waved them an affectionate farewell.
With the little ones clinging to her skirts, Mistress Gray followed the oppressors to the door, and stood watching while they bound her husband on a steed. He again turned his face towards her, and exhorted her to be of good cheer, and keep a firm hold upon her faith in God, until they should meet again. His words were brought to a sudden close by a blow upon the mouth, administered by the corporal, who was fastening him securely to the back of the horse. At sight of the blood, Susan Gray covered her face with her hands, and was afraid to look again. Ere he mounted his horse, Turner peremptorily ordered Mrs. Gray to bring him a tankard of ale, or a cup of wine, a command of which she was too much agitated to take notice. Little Jeanie, however, fearing a new exhibition of the terrible man’s wrath, with womanly thoughtfulness ran into the house, and brought out a draught for the general. He smiled grimly as he took it from the slim hands of the little maiden, and having quaffed it, bade her not follow the example of her renegade father; and, mounting his horse, gave the order to march, and the troops, with their prisoner in the midst, rode away from Hartrigge. Just then the lad Gavin came through the kitchen with a flushed eager face, and bearing in his hands an old fowling-piece, chiefly used for scaring rooks and other vermin off the crops.
“Why, Gavin, laddie, what did ye think to do?” asked his mother, with a mournful smile.
“Are they away, mother? If they had killed my father I would have shot Turner with this. I have been down at the tool house, loading it with some lead I got in my uncle Peter’s shop, at Lanark, when I was there with Uncle Adam,” replied the lad, fearlessly.
“Then they would have surely killed you, too, my son,” replied the mother, shaking her head; though inwardly admiring the spirit of the boy. “Well, well, Gavin, you will need to take care o’ us all now that your poor father is away.”
“Mother, what do you think they’ll do to him?”
“My son, how can I tell? But I dinna feel as if any great harm would come to him, for he says his time is not come yet,” replied Mistress Gray. “I think the Lord in His mercy will restore him ere long to his wife and bairns. But now, Gavin, get away by the fields to Rowallan, and see whether all be well there.”
Just at that moment, however, a messenger on horseback appeared at the door, conveying the terrible tidings from Rowallan, and bidding Hartrigge and his wife come over at once. Susan Gray, dumb with horror, sat helplessly down, and wrung her hands in despair. Not having heard the right way of the story, her hopes concerning her husband’s comparative safety swiftly ebbed away, for since they spared not a defenceless and delicate woman, how could they allow such as Andrew Gray to escape unhurt? So desolation and woe fell upon the houses of Rowallan and Hartrigge, and it appeared as if the Lord had deserted them, and removed the light of His countenance from His servants.
Meanwhile the regiment had halted on the public road, and after a brief consultation, a portion, under command of Captain Blane, was sent back to Inverburn, where they were to remain for several days, keeping a sharp look-out for the fugitives. They were also empowered to compel all upon whom they could lay hands to attend upon the ministrations of the curate the following Sabbath day. The main body of the troops, with Sir James at their head, then turned southwards, to scour the hill country betwixt Douglasdale and Nithsdale, Turner being anxious to reach his home in Dumfries, from which he had been absent for a considerable space.
In due course they arrived at Dumfries, where Andrew Gray was kept a close prisoner, prior to being sent or taken by Turner before the Commissioner at Edinburgh.
It would have been a swifter and surer plan to have conveyed the prisoner direct to Edinburgh from Inverburn, but Turner expected to lay hands upon some other marked offenders in the southern districts, and to send them in a body under guard to the Commissioners. However, he was unsuccessful, and arrived in Dumfries with his one prisoner, whose only offence was in harbouring field preachers and attending the open-air services.
While Turner rested himself at home, his dragoons were not allowed to be idle, but were despatched in detachments to the various villages and hamlets, to keep the inhabitants faithful in their attendance on the curates, and to extract fines from those who refused, the latter being a very congenial task to the greedy and brutal soldiery.
One cold, bleak morning, when a party of soldiers were maltreating an old man in the village of Dairy, in Kirkcudbrightshire, four of these very wanderers, whom Turner had been seeking, arrived in desperation, seeking shelter and food, and being indignant at the dragoons’ behaviour they set upon them, and compelled them to release the old man and give up their arms. Encouraged by their success, they were joined by several villagers, and surprised and overcame another party of dragoons, engaged extracting fines by violence, some little distance away. Further emboldened they marched into Dumfries, took Turner prisoner in his own house, set Andrew Gray at liberty, and constituted themselves into a small army. Thus took place the first rising against the Government, for which Andrew Gray, and many like him, had so ardently longed. With their unwilling prisoner they proceeded northwards, and were joined on the way by others, both on horse and foot. Captain Wallace was chosen as their leader, and by his side rode Andrew Gray, for he was certainly one of the boldest and most resolute among them. Travelling the same route as Turner had come, they entered Inverburn on a Sabbath morning just as service was about to begin. Entering the church, they ejected the curate, but did not take him prisoner, he being beneath their contempt; then they shut the church doors, tore up the book of service in the churchyard, the gates of which they then locked, and proceeded to the village, singing a psalm as they went. At Mistress Lyall’s a halt was made for rest and refreshment, and then Andrew Gray rode off rapidly to Hartrigge, to assure his wife of his safety, and tell her their resolve, which was to proceed to Edinburgh, expecting to increase in numbers as they went.
Space will not allow me to dwell long upon the happy meeting at Hartrigge, when the husband and father was so unexpectedly restored to his home. But upon hearing that he was again going forth, Mistress Gray ominously shook her head.
“I’m for peace, Andrew,” she said, in a low voice, “an’ what’s a handful of country folk against the soldiers of the king? Ye’ll be slain in cauld blood. Better, far better, bide at hame.”
Hartrigge only smiled in a lofty and superior manner at the weakness of the woman, and then inquired concerning the fugitives as well as the folk at Rowallan.
“Grandfather and David are safe enough, but waes me for Rowallan and it’s bonnie sweet mistress!” said Susan Gray, with fast filling eyes. “Of course ye canna have heard that Agnes is awa’ frae a’ the terrors o’ these troublous times, and that Adam Hepburn sits a widower by his desolate hearth.”
Andrew Gray gave a violent start. It was indeed news to him. Then, with many tears, his wife related the sad story to him, which he heard in absolute silence.
“An’ yet ye would still say, Peace, peace! Oh! Susan, woman, I fear ye are a coward at heart!” he said, sternly. “I will to Rowallan; surely Adam Hepburn will be determined to avenge his wife’s death.”
“Sure enough. He has made his vow, a terrible vow before God, Jane tells me,” said his wife. “And when will ye be back to your home again, think you, Andrew?”
“Ah, that I cannot tell. Be of good cheer, Susan, and look well after the house and the bairns. The God of Hosts will preserve me, so long as He sees it to be His good pleasure. So again farewell.”
So saying, Hartrigge again bade farewell to his own home, and turned his horse’s head towards Rowallan.
Near to the place he saw a figure in the distance, somewhat resembling his brother-in-law, and yet the face seemed greatly changed. When he came nearer, and the figure, recognising him, advanced to meet him, he almost started at the terrible change upon his sister’s widowed husband. He had not shaved nor trimmed his beard since his wife’s death, and his whole aspect was that of a man whose interest in life was dead. His face was haggard and worn, his eye restless and yearning as if looking ever in vain for some beloved object, his appearance sad and miserable in the extreme.
“You have managed to escape, Andrew,” he said, quite quietly, and without evincing either surprise or pleasure.
“Yes, and the Presbyterians are in arms at last; I have travelled with the company from Dumfries, increasing as we came, and there is now an army of nineteen hundred under Captain Wallace’s command, lying in the village of Inverburn,” responded Hartrigge, slowly. “Our destination is Edinburgh. If you still wish to avenge the murder of your angel wife, now is your time, Adam Hepburn.”
Adam Hepburn drew himself up, and the light of a passion terrible to see sprang into his glittering eye. He clenched his right hand, and raised it to heaven.
“Now, O Almighty God, for the fulfilling of my vow,” he said, solemnly; then, turning to Hartrigge, briefly announced his willingness and immediate readiness to accompany him. They returned first to inform Jane Gray of their intention; bade her either go to Hartrigge or get young Gavin to abide with her awhile, and not having time to seek the ministers in their shelter, they returned hastily to Inverburn. But Jane Gray immediately proceeded to the hiding-place, and informed her father and brother of the rising of the Covenanters. Then David Gray’s eye kindled, and the whole expression of his countenance indicated his desire to go forth with his brethren in defence of the Covenant. Seeing that, the old man blessed him, and bade him go. So David Gray stole by the field paths to the village, and joined the army just as it was setting forth upon its adventurous march.