CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
DATE DUE 
 
 
 
 
 
 Nov--ns 
 
 BTi^r 
 
 
 
 .-jfltif** 
 
 
 
 
 ^-tw^"^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 GAYLORD 
 
 
 
 PRtNTEOINU.S-A. 
 
 Cornell University Library 
 
 3 1924 031 256 963 
 olin.anx 
 
The original of tliis bool< is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924031256963 
 
Hppletons' 
 
 XTown an5 Country 
 
 Xibrars 
 
 No. i8o 
 
 THE KING OF ANDAMAN 
 
THE KING OF ANDAMAN 
 
 A SAVIOUK OF SOCIETY 
 
 BY 
 
 J. MACLAREN COBBAN 
 
 AUTHOR OF A REVEREND CENTLEMAN-'^THE RED SULTAN, ETC. 
 
 " He weaves, and is clothed with derision " 
 
 Swinburne, Atalanta in Calydon 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 1895 
 
COPYHIQHT, 1895, 
 
 By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY- 
 
 /in^s:n 
 
TO MY FRIEND 
 
 ROBERT ALAN MOWBRAY STEVENSON 
 
 WHOSE APPROVAL IN ALL THAT PERTAINS TO ART 
 
 IS DEARER TO THOSE WHO KNOW HIM 
 
 THAN THE APPLAUSE OF A WHOLE THEATBB OF OTHERS 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 PAOE 
 
 I. — Wind and the Windino of the Web .... 1 
 
 11. — "Theee is a Spirit in Man" 9 
 
 111. — The Threads of Fate 15 
 
 THE STOEY. 
 chapter 
 
 I. — Lepine and Son 23 
 
 II. — The Tryst in the Haugh 30 
 
 III. — The Master op Hutcheon 38 
 
 IV. — The Bailie's Offer 45 
 
 V. — The ^Master and the Bailie 53 
 
 VI. — Conspiracy 59 
 
 VII. — IIow O'Rhea made Friends with the Bailie . 66 
 
 VIII.—" A Man's Foes ..." 73 
 
 IX. — The Adventures of Tamson's Penny ... 80 
 
 X. — News from a Far Country 89 
 
 XI. — How the Master talked and O'Ehea sniggered. 98 
 
 XII. — A Broken Sabbath 106 
 
 XIII.— AmfiE 115 
 
 XIV. — How the Master did sot take out a Patent . 125 
 XV.— The End op the " Whamleebie " . . . .133 
 
 XVI.— "VoilA le Soleil 140 
 
 XVII. — Visions and Dreams 149 
 
 XVIII.— Aimee's Aid 156 
 
 XIX.— The Boy and the Man 166 
 
 XX.— "Dear Queen—" 174 
 
 XXI. — How Tam was won 181 
 
 vU 
 
viii CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XXII.— "On Her Majesty's Service" . . . .188 
 
 XXIII.— Views of Kingship 199 
 
 XXIV.—" The Wooing o't " 206 
 
 XXV.— The King's First Council 213 
 
 XXVI. — How THE Queen's Letter was received . . 221 
 
 XXVII. — Affairs of State, and other Matters . . 228 
 
 XXVIII.—" Oh, Love, Love !— " 235 
 
 XXIX. — Love traversed 244 
 
 XXX.— A Symposium 253 
 
 XXXI.— On to the Eapids 262 
 
 XXXII.— Crisis 269 
 
 XXXIII.— A Strange Marriage 278 
 
 XXXIV.— A Plot 285 
 
 XXXV.— The Plot thickens 291 
 
 XXXVI.— Inquisition 298 
 
 XXXVII.— How O'Rhea fared 305 
 
 XXXVIII.— The Master is examined 312 
 
 XXXIX.— The House on the Moss 322 
 
 XL.— Exodus 331 
 
THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 I. 
 
 WIND AND THE WINDING OF THE WEB. 
 
 Ilkastane is now built about with houses of the genteel 
 villa description, possessing bow-windows, door-bells, iron 
 railings, a shrub or two, and all the other tokens of respecta- 
 bility. It is now practically one in life and interest, as it is 
 one in corporation, with the busy city of Inverdoon. But in 
 the year 1848 it was a wretched and rather remote suburb, 
 the thread of whose connection with the city, both in life 
 and interest, was of extreme tenuity. The year '48 is mem- 
 orable in home annals for the final, desperate, and unsuc- 
 cessful attempt of the Chartists to compel attention to their 
 demands by other than "moral force." None had been 
 more reckless, and none felt their failure more keenly than 
 the Chartist weavers of Ilkastane. There were other crafts- 
 folk there besides weavers who were Chartists, but the 
 suburb was so distinctively a weaving community, and 
 weaving seemed so inseparable from Chartism, that weaver 
 and Chartist were synonymous — at least, in the timid and 
 prejudiced view of the neighbouring townspeople. 
 
 Ilkastane in itself was a hard, forbidding place, though 
 it had field and stream and tree at its doors. Its single 
 street, "the Loan,'' with its open gutter on either side, and 
 its gaping, dark-mouthed closes, was built of rough-hewn 
 granite, plastered (" harled " is the word) with rough-cast, 
 which, since it is now seldom seen, may be explained as a 
 
 1 
 
2 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 kind of thin mortar mixed with rough gravel, rendering a 
 wall covered with it scarifyingly painful to lean against. 
 Its people were like unto it ; in the main, a large-boned, 
 rough-hewn folk, gritty of temper, and rough-cast in man- 
 ner. Long before the Chartist days, the weavers of Ilka- 
 stane had a reputation for riot and devilry — and that in a 
 city itself unmannerly and riotous enough. Respectable 
 townsfolk would rather pass round than through it ; if ever 
 a well-dressed stranger adventured into it he had to run the 
 gauntlet of rude, glowering eyes and uncouth, discourteous 
 speech, flung sideways at him ; and if he left it without 
 some of its dirt higher than his heels he might reckon him- 
 self lucky. He might, indeed, see the young people slapped 
 and cuffed for their rudeness by the women, but by no 
 means better instructed by their example. Even the minis- 
 ters and missionaries of the town, who, in the fervour of the 
 new Evangelical zeal of that period, launched themselves 
 upon Ilkastane, had to withdraw baffled, though not mal- 
 treated. The llkastanians had too much theoretic respect 
 for the Kirk, and the Free Kirk both, not to respect their 
 messengers. The earnest students and "probationers'' who 
 visited Ilkastane got entangled in argumentative quandaries 
 with the weavers about " Election " and " Free Will," or 
 were drily repulsed by the wives, who scarcely paused at 
 their winding-wheels to say, " Na ; we dinna want no tracts. 
 Na ; we've neither time nor claithes to gang to the Kirk." 
 So, what with rude manners, rough speech, Sabbath-break- 
 ing, Chartism and poverty, Ilkastane seemed, to all church- 
 going, psalm-singing, well-dressed people of Inverdoon, com- 
 pletely self -devoted to the devil and his works. 
 
 When, therefore, the Chartists of town and suburb left 
 off assembling in waste places to drill with pike and banner, 
 or to be harangued by inflamed and ill-dressed orators, when 
 they left off marching up and down to the detriment of 
 business, and the extreme disquiet of douce, aproned shop- 
 folk, when they were compelled to skulk to their lairs by 
 the uplifted hand and whip of law and order, the excellent 
 public who paid rates and taxes, who had clothes to their 
 back, food for their belly, and money in their purse, breathed 
 
WIND AND THE WINDING OF THE WEB. 3 
 
 freely again and openly rejoiced. Some of these excellent 
 rate-paying people even went further, and denounced as 
 arch-traitors and ringleaders of the sedition several Chart- 
 ists whom they knew by name, and gave directions to the 
 agents of the Law in their attempts to lay hands on them, 
 directions which took them invariably to Ilkastane or its 
 neighbourhood. 
 
 The quality of mercy meted out to the Chartists of the 
 north and of the south, who had already been arrested and 
 tried, did not encourage those of Ilkastane to let themselves 
 be quietly caught when they knew they were wanted. So 
 it came to pass that two Ilkastane men, who had been set 
 down as notably dangerous and influential, were assidu- 
 ously sought for without being found. They were George 
 Hutcheon and Fergus O'Rhea. Neither of them was a 
 weaver. O'Rhea, indeed, as his name suggests, was not 
 even a native of Ilkastane. He had visited these parts as 
 a Chartist agitator, and had remained as inspirer and di- 
 rector of Chartist action. He was commonly believed to 
 be an Irishman ; but he disclaimed that honour, saying he 
 was only an Ulsterman, and, but for his name, as Scotch in 
 blood as any of them. He was a " physical force man," 
 and had done more, it was reckoned, to ruin " The Cause,'' 
 than any half-dozen besides. George Hutcheon was a 
 " moral force man," but very subject to the influence of 
 O'Rhea. He was regarded as a scholar and a gentleman, 
 because he had been to college and had never hardened 
 his hands with labour. He was a young man of romantic 
 feeling, and fluent, flowery speech ; and before his public 
 appearance as a Chartist leader, he had been a student at 
 Dunblair for the Episcopalian ministry. 
 
 It was at the end of October that the authorities in the 
 city had word sent them anonymously that efforts were 
 being made by the friends of the two Chartist leaders to 
 raise money — to send them out of the country, no doubt — 
 and that both men would be certain to be about Ilkastane 
 on the Saturday, when money would be given them by 
 James Hutcheon, the brother of George. It was probable, 
 the message said, they would then attempt to make their 
 
4 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 escape. The Fiscal and the New Police were weary of this 
 Chartist-hunting, but it was necessary for them to seem to 
 go through it with alacrity. Arrangements were made to 
 effect an arrest on the Saturday. 
 
 In the meantime, the Ilkastane '.'loan" lay full in the 
 sunshine. Windows were rattling, and doors slamming, 
 and dust and leaves flying, for it was very windy. 
 
 Windy! The blast, tearing down through the close 
 called Wilson's, and turning the corner suddenly, almost 
 snatched the mutch from Kirsty Kyle's grey head, and 
 slammed the entry door in her face, as she came forth for 
 her . Saturday's sand ; and it so beset the sand-cadger's pony 
 that, with his thin mane and tail driven this way and that, 
 it was all he could do to keep his feet. As if vnth a wild 
 guffaw at the quandary of the old woman and the old horse, 
 the wind flew up Hutcheon's close, spread its great flapping 
 wings and sped away over the low weaving-shops, away — 
 tearing, whistling, howling, catching and bearing away the 
 vile odours of Poverty and Chartism — away, over potato- 
 patches and kail-yards, bare fields of oat-stubble, and bleak 
 pastures, over the northern end of the town, to the wide 
 links, the sands, and the sea. 
 
 Kirsty, tying her mutch closer, reached the sand-cart, 
 little disturbed. 
 
 " Some windy, man," said she, looking the cadger straight 
 in the eye. 
 
 The man glanced up the close, noting the progress of the 
 blast, and said, — 
 
 "Windy, ay. But it's no so windy but I've seen it 
 windier mysel'. But ye ken, mistress, what they say ?— ' It's 
 aye an ill wind that blaws naebody good.' And that's what 
 I'm just thinkin'; for it's lucky that it's windy for some 
 folk, I expect." 
 
 He put his face in saying that very close to Kirsty's. 
 
 " What does the man mean 2 " said she, holding back 
 and staring at him. 
 
 " I ken ye can be trusted, Kirsty," said the cadger. " I 
 ha'e an errand for Maister Hutcheon. I canna see him my- 
 sel', 'cause he's no in, I ken that." 
 
WIND AND THE WINDING OP THE WEB. 5 
 
 " It's mair than I ken. Weel, I suppose ye want me to 
 do your errand for ye. What is't ? " 
 
 The man looked at her a moment as if weighing her 
 trustworthiness. 
 
 " This'll do,'' said he, tearing a piece of paper from his 
 pocket, putting some sand in it and twisting it up, and then 
 tearing another pie'ce, finding a stone, and twisting it up. 
 " See Maister Hutcheon as soon as ye can, and gi'e him them, 
 and say, ' That if it's windy ' (putting his hand on the stone 
 packet), ' and that if it's no windy " (putting his hand on the 
 sand packet). 
 
 "Weel; what mair?" 
 
 " Naething." 
 
 " I'm to say naething a body can understand ? If I'm no 
 to be trusted wi' a reasonable word, ye can do your gowk's 
 errand yoursel' ! " 
 
 She threw the two packets into his cart. 
 
 " Kirsty," said the man, " it's a matter o' life or death," 
 and he returned the two packets into her hand. 
 
 '' What am I to say ? " insisted she. 
 
 He repeated his former words, and then at once resumed 
 crying " Sa-and ! " and urged on his pony. 
 
 She saw something in the man's eye which made her 
 turn ; an officer of the New Police was passing. 
 
 " Some windy," said she to him by way of salutation, as 
 she recrossed the gutter and entered her own door. 
 
 Some windy, indeed ! In a little while it was a storm of 
 wind, the like of which the old asthmatic, M'Kay, could not 
 remember for fifty years. And all the while the sun was 
 shining brightly and there was not a speck of cloud in the 
 sky. Chimney-pots and tiles were whipped from the houses 
 and dashed into the loan. Sharp dust and stour whirled 
 about' the person and into the eyes and throat. Yet the 
 loan and the door-steps were busy with feet and clattering 
 pails, for it was Saturday, " dies tree, dies ilia " of washing, 
 and scrubbing and sanding floors. The schoolmaster was 
 execrated for resting on Saturday, of all days in the week, 
 and the children were hustled out into the wind, which, in 
 its large, clumsy way, made merry with them, running them 
 
6 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 off on errands they never meant to go, driving them againsi 
 sharp corners, and whirling them into dusty nooks. 
 
 The afternoon was wearing late when Kirsty Kyle again 
 came to her door to look out for " Maister Hutcheon.'" The 
 Hutcheons (for reasons which shall be explained hereafter) 
 were held in great regard by the Ilkastanians, and Kirsty 
 was especially anxious now to fulfil the commission she had 
 undertaken for the elder — the simpler, and the quieter of 
 the two. 
 
 " Maister Hutcheon " at length came striding down the 
 loan, with his hand clapped on his broad bonnet. How he 
 buffeted the wind and forced his way in spite of it and its 
 flying missiles, as if he enjoyed the encounter ! He turned 
 to pass up the close called by his own name, and then the 
 wind thought to drive him before it : but he laughed a low, 
 solemn laugh, leaned trustfully back upon it, and kept his 
 own pace. The fickle, nimble wind, however, faced him 
 again and 
 
 " Tak' care, James, tak' care," said Kirsty Kyle, with her 
 eye on him. " Dinna lean upon the wind, man. It's little 
 support to a trustin' back. Lippenin'* the wind'U be the 
 ruin o' ye. I've a bit figment o' an errand to ye. That 
 (a bit stane) if it's windy ; that (a wee puckle sand) if it's no 
 windy ; and if ye can mak' sense o' that ye've mair head 
 than maist folk." 
 
 " Wha gave ye't ? " 
 
 " Cadger Jock." 
 
 " Oh, ay ; it's a' right, Kirsty, I understand. I'm obliged 
 to ye, Kirsty. Yes, I'll see to't. And, Kirsty, I doubt we'll 
 ha'e the New Police down on us. If ye'd just keep your e'e 
 on the loan, Kirsty." 
 
 And Hutcheon went on his way and left Kirsty to fight 
 with the wind for the possession of her mutch and little tar- 
 tan shawl. 
 
 Anon a dead calm fell, and through it there rose a strange 
 eerie sound — a sustained, plaintive moan, as of a creature 
 in pain. It seemed as if the wind had subdued itself to 
 
 * Trusting. 
 
WIND AND THE WINDING OP THE WEB. 7 
 
 listen. Hearing it, the women of Hutcheon's close ceased 
 their talk and their noisy occupations to congratulate each 
 other on its happy meaning. It was the sound of the wind- 
 ing of a web. 
 
 " Eh, sirs 1 " said old Kirsty Kyle, putting her head out of 
 window and addressing her gossips, " doesna that sound do 
 the heart ggod like a psalm ? " 
 
 " It's the first wab this six months ! " answered one of the 
 women. 
 
 The six months' sharp hunger and want of work, wild 
 hope and black despair were at an end ; now there would 
 be regular work and regular wages, regular meals and 
 regular sleep, even if there were only little of either one or 
 another — that was the meaning, for the women, of that 
 melancholy sound of the winding of the web. It meant for 
 the men something altogether different — as different as the 
 gloom of the weaving-shop was from the sunshine of the 
 close. Judging from the aspect of those engaged in the 
 operation of winding, there might have been written over the 
 door of the weaving-shop, "'Leave hope behind all ye who 
 enter here." 
 
 The " shop " was a large, low-roofed, chilly place, with a 
 faint earthy smell, as of a tomb. The looms (of which 
 there were more than a dozen), with their dark beams and 
 cross-pieces, and their cords and threads and finer fila- 
 ments, many and regular, which caught the light struggling 
 in through the small, paper-patched windows, looked 
 mysterious and awful enough to be those at which the 
 Fates eternally sit weaving the destinies of men. Within 
 and about the loom in the furthest corner (all the rest 
 stood silent and deserted) were six men. Two of them were 
 at the end of the beam, turning it with a spoke, slowly 
 bending each to the other like automata, and looking enor- 
 mously tall in the gloom, with their heads almost touching 
 the low, black ceiling. Two others stood before the beam, 
 letting the coils of yarn out with a tight hold, hand over 
 hand. The great coils rose, writhing like snakes, from the 
 piles at the feet of the men, glided slowly across the loom, 
 round a smooth pole, and then through a " guide " (held by 
 
8 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 two other men), which with its teeth separated the coils into 
 very small skeins and spread them out upon the heam. The 
 heam moaned and complained , but the six men performed 
 their duty in grim silence, without so much as a look at each 
 other. For them the winding of the web meant the sur- 
 render of all they had struggled, spoken, and starved for — a 
 bitter return to the house of bondage. 
 
 " Wo-o-oa ! " (The sound might have been the cry of a 
 sad Jeremiah to a doomed people.) 
 
 The beam was silent ; the men who were turning it stood 
 still. James Hutcheon (one of the two who sat and held 
 the " guide ") had spied some entanglement in the web which 
 his patient fingers unravelled. Old M'Cree glowered through 
 his brass-rimmed spectacles from the other end of the guide 
 in angry impatience with the delay. 
 
 " Recht ! " cried he in a rough, full-mouthed voice, and 
 round again turned the beam, moaning and honing ; — and so 
 the winding of the web went on. 
 
 After some time the moaning beam was again brought 
 to pause, and the men were struck into a hunted, desperate 
 aspect by a loud " Stop ! " and by the vision of three men 
 with bright brass buttons. 
 
 " James Hutcheon ! " called the foremost of the three. 
 
 " That's me," answered Hutcheon calmly. 
 
 To which the man replied by turning a blue sheet of 
 paper to the light. While he was reading from it Hutcheon 
 laid his hand on the coil next him and gently pulled it ; the 
 other end was in the hand of Steven, an old soldier with 
 one eye. Hutcheon thus drew Steven's attention and shot 
 a quick, meaning glance at the wall near Steven's head. 
 Steven put out his hand and pulled a loose string, which 
 was instantly drawn up somewhere out of sight. All that 
 took but a few seconds, and the oificer the while was reading 
 his paper, which proved to be a warrant to search the 
 premises of James Hutcheon for the outlawed persons of 
 George Hutcheon and Fergus O'Rhea. 
 
"THERE IS A SPIRIT IN MAX." 9 
 
 II. 
 
 " THERE IS A SPIRIT IN MAN." 
 
 " This is my premises," said Hutcheon, " this, and up the 
 stairs. Ye're free to do your errand. Ye see, there's nobody 
 ye want here." 
 
 The officer seemed not sure of that. He took the names 
 of all present ; then he satisfied himself there was no one 
 hidden about any of the idle looms, or in the dug-out beds 
 in which the treadles worked, or in the coal-hole under the 
 stairs. At length all three ascended to Hutcheon's living 
 rooms. Hutcheon rose to go also. 
 
 " They might tak' something that's no set down in their 
 paper,'' said he in answer to the silent inquiry all his com- 
 rades turned on him. 
 
 While Hutcheon and the oflicers were in the rooms above, 
 the others remained silent in rigid attention, with their eyes 
 half -raised to the ceiling, and following in fancy the move- 
 ments here and there overhead. This alertness was main- 
 tained till the police walked across the floor to the further 
 — the sleeping — room, when those below exchanged a look of 
 marked emphasis, as much as to say, " Now ! " But presently 
 the police were heard descending the stairs, and then the 
 strained attention of those waiting at the loom relaxed, and 
 M'Cree sucked up a great pinch of snuff into his resonant 
 Roman nose, and cleared his throat with a loud " Bu-h-h ! " 
 
 "Weel," said he when Hutcheon returned, "that's ower. 
 Bu-h-h ! " (M'Cree always made great ado about clearing 
 his throat.) " I would like fine to ken whaur that deevil 
 O'Rhea is." 
 
 " Gin ye dinna ken, ye winna tell, Saunders," said Steven, 
 the one-eyed soldier. " By Jingo, ye winna ! " and he cast 
 with his one eye many rapid, fiery winks at his neighbours. 
 
 " If there's one Chartist mair than anither deserves to be 
 ta'en and tried for his life," said M'Cree with full-mouthed 
 emphasis, " it's Fergus O'Rhea. Bu-h-h I Ye a' ken he 
 ruined the Cause wi' his voilence." 
 3 
 
10 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 " Ye're wrong, and wrong again, and ten times wrong, 
 said Hutcheon. 
 
 " Hoot ! " said old Loudoun, fidgeting— it was his web 
 that was being delayed. " What for should we gang ower 
 that ground again ? The Cause is as dead as a herrin ' : 
 What matters now wha did it ? The Cause is dead " 
 
 " But we're living, Loudoun, man ! " exclaimed Hutcheon. 
 
 " Ay, we're livin'," said Loudoun, with a disconsolate 
 shrug, " so it behoves us to get something to live upon. 
 Ca' on ! " 
 
 So these two outer men resumed their spoke, the winding 
 of the web went on again, and there was no sound heard 
 for some time but the weary, plaintive moan of the beam. 
 They all sank back into the apathy from which the interlude 
 of the police had scarce roused them. Their hunger-marked 
 unshaven faces reflected no indignation, scarcely even inter- 
 est ; from under their grizzled eyebrows (all except Hutcheon 
 and Steven were over forty) looked only the primal instinct 
 of a strong race — the grim resolve to live somehow. And 
 the two at the beam slowly rose and bent ; hand over hand 
 passed out the coils, untwining and spreading out fan-wise 
 as they approached the "guide," to be drawn through its 
 many teeth and laid upon the beam, which sustained its 
 monotonous moan. 
 
 Gradually the familiar movement and sound seemed to 
 wake memory and feeling in all the winders. They con- 
 tinued sad, silent, and absorbed, but a flash of the eye, a 
 grim compression of the mouth, or a hitch of the shoulder 
 as if to ease it under a burden, showed that their minds were 
 awake. If their thoughts had found voice they would have 
 spoken thus : " Are not this winding of the web and its fu- 
 ture weaving a type of our life ? Our web has been drawn 
 through the teeth of circumstance and spread upon the beam, 
 and it has been woven into fabric, as this will be, piece by 
 piece ; piece by piece it has been taken from us as this will 
 be taken by its owner— and now there is left us nothing but • 
 the thrums ! There is no man regardeth our case ; none 
 careth whether we live or die.'' 
 
 But suddenly there came upon their ears, like a beautiful 
 
"THERE IS A SPIRIT IN MAN." H 
 
 embroidery wrought on the monotonous moaning of the 
 beam, a soft, melodious, measured sound. It was distinctly 
 from above, and at once the winders guessed what it was 
 and who discoursed it. It was from a three-foot marvel of a 
 flute, which they had often heard played with exquisite feel- 
 ing by the same mouth and fingers as then compelled its 
 music — those of Hutcheon's out-lawed brother. The voice of 
 the flute was at first distressed and bewildered as their feel- 
 ings, but it ended in a paean of triumph ; it was as the voice of 
 toiling humanity — the voice of sad reminiscence and shame- 
 ful defeat, but defeat like that of Antseus, who drew new 
 hope and strength from his overthrow ; it was the voice of 
 their hearts as they glanced at each other and then turned 
 their eyes away. 
 
 The flute passed from one air to another. It sounded 
 a quick march — " Over the mountains, over the main ! " 
 M'Cree and Loudoun exchanged a glance. That was the air 
 to which they, when thoughtless striplings with a mind for 
 glory, marched out of Ilkastane to help the great Wellington 
 to beat Napoleon on the battlefields of Europe. Who would 
 ever guess that old Sandy Loudoun, with his bald crown, his 
 thin grey whisker brushed carefully forward, his watery eye, 
 and his broken, disconsolate manner — that he had ever been 
 a wild cat in a Highland regiment, that he had been one of 
 those who had dashed into the famous fight clinging to a 
 trooper's stirrup ? 
 
 The flute blew out the wild notes of ''The Campbells are 
 coming ! " which made the simple, cheery Steven flush and 
 wink, and whistle in unison. 
 
 Ah, thought the old men as they wagged their heads at 
 each other, those were the tunes — stirring, warlike, patriotic 
 things — with which Governments befooled them. They 
 drew them skipping and dancing forth to do their will — to 
 strive and cry, to shed their blood and waste their life 
 — and all for what ? To be cast aside and trodden on ! 
 But, ha ! they were not slaves yet ! Fools they might 
 be, but slaves never ! -'En avant ! Enfants de la Pa- 
 trie!'' 
 
 The music had flown into the blood-stirring strain of 
 
12 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 "La Marseillaise.'''' It made their breath come quicker, 
 and the dormant fever of revolt wake in their veins. They 
 looked at each other and set their teeth hard. What wild 
 impulses strove in them ? Such as had helped to bring 
 them to their present pass of humiliation and want ! A 
 growl, which was half-sneer, half -snarl, passed among them 
 as they glanced at each other. 
 
 " Mad French thing ! " muttered Loudoun, loud enough 
 to be heard. 
 
 They had let the hope that inspired that music move 
 them before, and what had come of it ? What had all their 
 vows, all their efforts — their marches and meetings, their 
 drums and their speeches — brought them but the bitter 
 lesson that they will take who have the power, and they 
 will keep who can ? But still sounded the " mad French 
 thing," stirring their blood in spite of them — "£'n avant ! 
 JEnfants de la Patrie ! " Surely, woe to the people the 
 best of whose life lies in remembrance ! There was a fu- 
 ture still to be fought for and won ! — " En avant ! Enfants 
 de la Patrie ! " sounded the flute like the clear pipe of an 
 organ, and then in accompaniment, ^' Marchons ! Mar- 
 chons ! " swelled out in a rich, bass voice from somewhere 
 close at hand. 
 
 '■ Wha's that ?" exclaimed M'Cree, glaring at Hutcheon. 
 
 A step was heard ascending the stairs, and then a loud 
 voice addressing the player of the flute; 
 
 " By Jingo ! " cried Steven, " it's O'Rhea 1 " 
 
 " Wo-o-oa ! " called Hutcheon, as the end of the coils 
 came close to his guide. 
 
 So the web was wound ; the spell was broken. The moan 
 of the beam and the music above had both ceased, and 
 disappeared like memory and hope; there remained only 
 the hard and dismal realities of the present. 
 
 Hutcheon straightway left the weaving-shop and as- 
 cended the stairs. M'Cree, without a word or look to the 
 others, resolutely followed him, upon which Steven, dis- 
 ti'ibuting nods and winks to those left behind, followed 
 M'Cree. O'Rhea was talking in a loud voice to George 
 Hutcheon in the garret. 
 
"THERE IS A SPIRIT IN MAN." 13 
 
 " By Gosh I " exclaimed Steven, aside to James Hutcheon, 
 " he's been at the whisky." 
 
 " Who said whisky ? " asked O'Rhea, turning quickly. 
 " Have you got a drop ? If you have, for God's sake give 
 me a mouthful, for I'm parched and poisoned by some 
 fiendish distillation of vitriol and naphtha I laid hands on 
 on the top shelf in Steven's shanty." 
 
 " What for hae ye come oot ? " asked Hutcheon in return. 
 " D'ye not ken the police have been round the loan and in 
 here spierin' for ye ? And ye risk meeting them for the 
 sake o' a suck at a whisky-bottle ! " 
 
 " Bu-h-h ! " said M'Cree, who had been impatiently 
 clearing his throat ready to throw in his word. "That's 
 jusht it 1 " 
 
 " What's just it, my patriarch ? " demanded O'Rhea. He 
 turned a full front upon him, and the light fell upon a fig- 
 ure that would make a man look and think twice wherever 
 it was seen ; especially would the strong fighting head and 
 shoulders, the clipped red beard, the abundant crop of in- 
 controllable red hair, and the grey-blue eye with its fearless 
 expression of alertness and intelligence. " What's just it ? " 
 he asked. " I'm always risking life and limb for something 
 no better than a toothful of spirits ; if that's what you mean, 
 you're right. I've always done that, and, by the living 
 Jingo ! I daresay I'll go on doing it till the end of the 
 chapter." 
 
 " Bu-h-h ! " resumed M'Cree. 
 
 " Ye used to read your Bible, M'Cree, I suppose, before 
 ye became a wicked Chartist and imperilled your immortal 
 soul. Well, perhaps ye remember something of a lunatic 
 that went into dry places, seeking rest and finding none. 
 Now, that's what every mortal idiot of us has been doing 
 since our plans came to grief. I've been in confounded dry 
 places, and so have ye all; — and that, my Hutcheon, is 
 what I've come out for, catch me who can. I want to make 
 this a wet place for every mother's son and bold Chartist 
 among us. We must get cheered up, and set the fire of 
 hope burning in our bodies, if not in our souls, before we set 
 out on a cold sea-voyage this blessed night. So, Hutcheon, 
 
14 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 bring forth the usquebagh, if you've got a spark of Chartist 
 or of Scotsman left in ye. Ye think the Cause is lost." 
 
 "And I tak' leave to think," began M'Cree, but he was 
 cut short by O'Rhea. 
 
 " Ye're wrong, M'Cree. Ye'U see in the twinkling of a 
 bed-post that the Cause must be alive so long as we're alive, 
 and have the spunk of men in us ! " 
 
 " Recht for you, O'Rhea ! By Gosh ! " said Steven, with 
 a violent wink, " he's recht ! " 
 
 " True ! Quite true ! " said George Hutcheon, though 
 somewhat sadly. 
 
 The elder Hutcheon said nothing, but went to a little 
 locker for the whisky. 
 
 " They think we're defeated, ti'odden on, squashed quite 
 fiat and dead like toads that a cart-wheel has gone over. 
 They're wrong ; we're as lively — in a jiffy we'll be livelier 
 than we've been for a year. George and me are going 
 away ; what of that ? We're only drawing back for a spring, 
 and in a while we'll come back with a bound and a roar, 
 and we'll carry the Cause in some shape or other. How 
 like an eagle in a dovecot, we'll flutter all their Volscians in 
 Corioli ! " 
 
 " Coryly ?" said M'Cree. "Isna that awa' foreign? 
 Bu-h-h ! We want nae foreigners : if we canna manage by 
 oursel's, we'd better let be. We've had ower muckle trock 
 wi' foreigners." 
 
 "Right, M'Cree, as always," said O'Rhea, promptly. 
 " Who would be free, themselves must strike the blow ! " 
 
 What with the influence of O'Rhea's abounding vitality 
 and vigorous speech, and the fire infused by the whisky, 
 these pale, depressed Chartists perked themselves up and 
 were ready to buffet all conceivable difficulties with as 
 much valour as ever. In less than half an hour they were 
 all in full flow of heady talk, discussing forcibly the disap- 
 pointments of the past and the prospects of the future, even 
 formulating schemes which should at length bring success 
 to the Cause. What these were we need not trouble to note, 
 for they never came to anything. Of more consequence is 
 it to observe that while James Hutcheon, M'Cree, and 
 
THE THREADS OF PATE. :15 
 
 Steven thus earnestly mingled opinions and ideas, and 
 sublimated them with the " mountain dew " of Lochnagar, 
 the man who had brought this result about was rapidly 
 talking aside to George Hutcheon. There was little chance 
 of their being overheard. 
 
 III. 
 
 THE THREADS OF FATE. 
 
 " George," said he, " I must tell you something. I've 
 promised to take Kitty with us." 
 
 " Kittie M'Cree with us ! " exclaimed George. " What 
 nonsense, Fergus ! It's impossible.'' 
 
 " Let me show ye how possible it is. She wants to go ; 
 I want her to go ; and she will be no expense to us, because, 
 ye know, she has some money of her own." 
 
 " I know all that, Fergus,'' said George. " No, I won't 
 listen to ye. Ye've got such a tongue that I believe ye 
 could persuade me to that or anything. And ye see how it 
 would be. If she went with us, M'Cree would think it was 
 with me, because he has always thought me her sweetheart. 
 No, I can't do it ; I won't listen to it." 
 
 " Very well," said O'Rliea, in a tone of some offence. " I 
 must find another way." 
 
 " Don't do that, Fergus, or Oh, yes ; I know it's not 
 
 often I have been able to find it in me to go against you in 
 anything, but in this I do, and must. And I'm not think- 
 ing of myself only. See, Fergus, man, where we are with 
 it all. We've no immediate prospect " 
 
 " Haven't we ? The whole world's before us, man ! " 
 
 "We're hunted " 
 
 " Let them hunt ! " 
 
 " If we get as far as Auierica or Austi-alia we'll have to 
 live for a good while as it's not fit for any respectable woman 
 to live.'' 
 
16 THE KIXG OF ANDAMAN". 
 
 "Shall we, George, my boy?" laughed O'Rhea confi- 
 dently. " No fear, sir— no fear." 
 
 "Maybe ye're a proficient at making a living," said 
 George, brought somewhat to a pause. "However," he 
 continued, " if I can't persuade you, you slia'n't persuade me. 
 And, moreover, as Kitty's old sweetheart I won't see her 
 and old M'Cree and myself put upon." 
 
 " ' Put upon,' George, is a considerable word. But it's a 
 chance word, I believe, that usually means more than you 
 intend it at this particular moment to mean, so I'll let it 
 pass. But come, George, my boy ; look me in the face and 
 listen to a word or two from me." 
 
 " Not a word, Fergus," answered George, and kept his 
 eyes as resolutely turned from him as a toper might from 
 the bottle that tempts him to excess. " And there is but one 
 thing now to be said, and sorry I am that you make me say 
 it," he continued hurriedly. " To furnish us with money 
 my brother has hypothecated every stick and stone there is 
 left of Hutcheon property, and it goes sore against the grain 
 wi' me to take it ; but I'll take it — on the promise to Jamie 
 to pay it back — I'll take it and we'll share it to the last 
 penny if we set out by ourselves and travel as we were 
 going to do. But if you insist on your notion about Kitty, 
 I swear to you, Fergus, I'll turn round here and tell them 
 all about it and refuse to take the money or to stir a stump 
 either with or without ye ; we'll bide where we are and dree 
 our weird ! " 
 
 He gave one look at O'Rhea to see how he took it. He 
 was evidently smitten with surprise ; he raised his brows and 
 let his lip drop an instant and then he seemed cheerful again. 
 
 " All right, my boy, all right," he said. " I see you mean 
 it, by George ! so I'll say no more." 
 
 " And you'll give up the idea ? " 
 
 " Give it up, of course ; what else 2 " 
 
 " And if Kitty's expecting to hear from you, let her know 
 it can't be." 
 
 " To be sure it can't be, and she must know it." 
 
 "But ye'U let her know, Fergus. Shall I go and tell 
 her ? " 
 
THE THREADS OF FATE. 17 
 
 " By the living Jingo, this is too much, George 1 Yes ; 
 tliis is too much ! " 
 
 And he rose in a rage, strode to the other side of the 
 rpom and absently handled the tools on Hutcheon's bench. 
 This movement attracted the attention of the otliers, and 
 O'Rhea turned to share in their talk. George Hutcheon, 
 meanwhile, sat still, perplexed in spite of his declared reso- 
 lution, and not a little displeased with himself. 
 
 He had refused Fergus " upon instinct " and impulse, 
 rather than for well-considered reasons. His friend had 
 some months since taken his sweetheart Kitty from him. 
 It was but an aggravated instance of that large, good- 
 natured acquisitiveness which distinguished O'Rhea, in 
 which people acquiesced as they do Ln the action of a 
 familiar law of nature, that which decrees that the greater 
 has more attractive force than the less. George had recog- 
 nised the inevitable ; he had not complained ; his attention 
 had been taken up with other things, and he had not thought 
 till now that he had keenly felt the loss. But now upon 
 O'Rhea's proposal there had leapt up a very resolute spirit 
 of resentment and jealousy. Besides, there were these curi- 
 ous attendant circumstances which were hinted at in their 
 conversation. O'Rhea's courtship of Kitty was of a secret 
 nature, mainly because it would be certain to be absolutely 
 forbidden if it were known by her father ; for M'Cree had a 
 notable dislike and suspicion of O'Rhea, which had probably 
 no better ground than the instinctive hatred one great man 
 feels towards another. M'Cree, of course, saw no reason 
 why Kitty should be courted by anybody. She was only 
 one-and-twenty, and M'Cree thought he had an inalienable 
 right to the fingering of the small " tocher " which an elderly 
 admirer had left her. Going over all this ground again in 
 his thoughts, George ended by reaffirming to himself his 
 resolution. Kitty must not go with them ; if he could give 
 her up before, Fergus could give her up now without great 
 pain. But his generosity made him think of a little conces- 
 sion — why should he not suggest to Fergus that he should 
 write to Kitty to come to them when they had reached some 
 destination, if she cared to brave the journey ? He hesitated 
 
18 THE KING OP AXDAMAX. 
 
 a little over this, for lie was afraid he might weakly yield 
 the whole question if it were re-opened. After a little while, 
 however, he went over to O'Rhea, and made his suggestion. 
 " All right, my boy," said O'Rhea aloud. " Time enough 
 to talk of that. Let's say no more about it. Sit down and 
 have another glass." 
 
 The Saturday's marketing in town and suburb was over, 
 and all Ilkastane seemed asleep, when from the river-banks, 
 the fields, the haughs, and the roads, the winds came creep- 
 ing back upon the despised Chartist lair, like an assaulting 
 midnight army. The signal was given ; there was a rush 
 and a roar ; the stout granite walls were firm, but the roofs 
 quivered at the shock, and people lay on their backs broad 
 awake and ready to spring to their feet as the sounds of the 
 strife increased and approached. 
 
 The brothers were troubled as they heard the racket in 
 the chimneys and the furious tiing of the wind at the win- 
 dow. The excitement of the early evening was dead. The 
 pain of parting, and the desolation of their lot weighed 
 heavy on them. James almost resolved to cast away every 
 consideration that would detain him and accompany his 
 brother into exile, but George would not hear of it ; James 
 must stay and help the rest to bear the burden of their hai'd 
 life, and to keep burning in their hearts the hope of free- 
 dom, and of the triumph of " The Cause."' As they talked 
 in low tones and with sad intervals, there came with the 
 wind the sound of rain — fierce rain. How then were the 
 fugitives to get " clear oflf " ? Neither the sands nor the 
 rocks could be the rendezvous — unless the rain should lay 
 the wind. But the wind still raged and drove the bitter 
 rain like storm-spray among the wretched houses and over 
 the insecure roofs of Ilkastane, as if it were chai'ged to find 
 out and work vengeance on the lurking Chartists. 
 
 Through all this wild racket one woman under a roof 
 not far otf was not only wakeful, hut up and dressed, she 
 concerning whom George Hutcheon and Fergus O'Rhea 
 had had words. Kitty M'Cree — "bonny Kitty" — had sat 
 in the draughty garret which was her bedroom, waiting — 
 
THE THREADS OF FATE. 19 
 
 waiting for how many hours ? — for the message from Fergus 
 O'Rhea which came not. High-strung with hope she had 
 early packed her bag and seen that her small store of money 
 WEis safe ; and then she had sat down to wait, with what 
 patience she was mistress of, the promised word or sign. 
 When bed-time came she dared not move about for fear of 
 disturbing her parents below. So she sat, Jiour after hour, 
 growing sick with wonder, alarm, and dread, her mind be- 
 coming more and more fixed, to the verge of madness, on 
 tlie slow passage of the minutes and the increasing cold. 
 When the wind burst upon the roof and whistled through 
 its tiles into the room, her painful attention was relieved a 
 little, only, however, to be made more acute and unendura- 
 ble by the thought that her lover's signal might be lost in 
 the clamour. When the first gust of rain rattled on her 
 sky-light window she thought it must be a handful of gravel 
 thrown by him. She dashed to the window and opened it, 
 only to be well-nigh choked with the storm, and to feel as 
 if her room would be turned inside out. She managed to 
 close the window, but she could not now contain her dis- 
 tress. Why — oh, why ! — did lie not come to her ? He knew 
 the way, alas ! too well ! and she had a claim on him, as on 
 a husband ! Yet he did not come I — he gave no sign ! The 
 strain of cold, anxiety, dread, sliame and helplessness was 
 too great, and she was about to tlu-ow herself on her bed in 
 utter despair, when an agony of pain seized her. The hor- 
 ror of its meaning held her rigid a moment, and almost 
 struck her heart still, and then it flung her on the floor, 
 crying, " Oh, mither ! mither ! "' Her mother, wakeful be- 
 low, heard the fall and the cry. She rose from her bed 
 and went to her daughter . . . and by-and-by, through the 
 whoop, and howl, and hiss of the storm, there sounded the 
 faint cry of an infant inhaling for the first time the breath 
 of life. 
 
 The coldest hour of the night had long passed when the 
 outer door of the weaving -shop creaked open. Two men 
 came out and the door was pulled to. The taller was James 
 Hutcheon. His brother lingered behind while he put his 
 
20 THE KIXG OF AXDAJIAX. 
 
 head out into the loan, and looked up and down ; there was 
 nothing stirring but the wind. The two passed quicklj- 
 forth and down the loan, at the end of which two others 
 came from a doorway and joined them. They -were Steven 
 and O'Ehea. They all four without a word turned to the 
 right along the side of the burn, which babbled and mur- 
 mured, careless of the wind. 
 
 It was a cold night, but the struggle with the storm 
 warmed the fugitives. The wind filled every worn sleeve, 
 every pocket and fold about the toiling, choking men. It 
 seized every thread and rag, and made whips of them to 
 scourge their owners. Sometimes it swooped down upon 
 them and brought them to a dead halt, or forced them against 
 a wall, as if it had resolved Avhen it had rifled them and found 
 out their musty poverty to sweep them from its path. It 
 rushed over their bands, and past their faces in a cold, cruel 
 stream. It buffeted them on cheek and chest, and scorned 
 every hair of their beards as if it would say, " Dross and scum 
 of the earth ! Away, away ! Back 1 And be swept to yom- 
 doom by the besom of the law ! " 
 
 The four men struggled on in silence, clear of the i-e- 
 motest suburb of the city, till they came to the steep river- 
 bank. James Hutcheon went down by himself out of 
 sight. 
 
 " By my trogs," said Steven, resting by a wall, " this has 
 been a terrifu' road, flghtin' the wind ! When we cross the 
 watter, I sujjpose it'll be at our back." 
 
 Hutcheon returned with another man (in whom Kirsty 
 Kyle "would have recognised Cadger Jock), led by whom 
 they went down crunching among the pebbles and the 
 gravel to the river-brink, and into a broad saknon-fishing 
 boat. The stream was swift, and their course slanted to the 
 opposite shore ; which being attained, they climbed the bank 
 and went flying before the wind, by tracks and dykes, till 
 the hollow roar of the sea among the rocks sounded through 
 the rush of the wind among the stunted trees, the gorse and 
 stones through -which they were driven. It was a cruel, 
 desolate shore, piled and strewn -with huge granite bouldei-s, 
 relics of the battles fought by Titans when the world was 
 
THE THREADS OP PATE. 21 
 
 young. Far out to the north at the end of the Ness, the 
 lighthouse held a steady, mellow light aloft to -warn the 
 mariner off. From boulder to boulder, sliding and slipping, 
 by leaps and turns, the four fugitives flitted like scared 
 nightbirds. A sheltered cove was reached, where the foot 
 sank soft in pungent-smelling sea-weed, and where the waves 
 glided in like oil. A coasting barque had engaged to put a 
 boat in here ; but as yet there was neither boat nor barque to 
 be seen. Surely they were not betrayed. And yet it was 
 past the hour agreed upon I 
 
 But after a little, a ship was seen wearing round the Ness 
 under double-reefed topsails — surely the expected barque. 
 They watched her round and well into view. She seemed 
 sailing on to the south without pause, without thought of 
 those waiting for her in the cove. 
 
 " Show a flare," suggested O'Ehea. 
 
 But how could Are or flare be made without either match 
 or dry wood ? There were many bleached shreds of wood 
 about, but what had not been soaked by the tide had been 
 drenched with the rain. What was to be done ? The barque 
 was wearing past. 
 
 " We swore," said James Hutcheon, rapidly stripping 
 himself of coat and waistcoat, " that we would neither shirt 
 nor shave till ' The Cause ' was won. We may break that 
 now. I winna shave, but I'll shirt the day ! " 
 
 So saying he drew off his shirt, while O'Rhea, seeing 
 what he would be at, found a proper stone, and with his 
 pocket-knife, while the others stood round with their coats 
 extended, struck and struck again to produce a spark. At 
 last it was done, the spark was blown upon, and the shirt 
 blazed flercely up. Presently there was an answering flare 
 from the stern of the ship, and a boat was seen putting off, 
 and soon the plash of the oars was heard in the water of the 
 cove. A little while and there was the strong lingering grip 
 of brown, muscular hands. O'Rhea, who had had so many 
 words of encouragement to utter in the early evening, had 
 not one now. 
 
 " Jamie, ray brother," said George Hutcheon, " stick to 
 the Cause ! " 
 
22 THK KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 "Dinna doubt that, Geordie," answered James. "And 
 let me hear from ye.'' 
 
 "Good-bye," said Steven, with a cheerful huskiness of 
 voice. " So long to ye baith." 
 
 " See," said Hutcheon, as they pushed out the boat from 
 among the sea-weed, "there's the day lookin' up." He 
 pointed to the grey watery dawn just beginning. " There's 
 luck in that for us a' ! " 
 
 Tlie boat was I'owed away, and he and Steven turned 
 homeward with full, sad hearts. They pulled their bonnets 
 over their brows, and Hutcheon buttoned his coat well up 
 on his shirtless throat. 
 
 Thus — appropriately, in wind, careless observers said 
 then and would say still — thus ended for Ilkastane the clos- 
 ing episode of the Chartist Rising of '48. Yet neither the 
 effects of the wind nor of the Rising ceased with that night. 
 The wind was moved by an eternal necessity to blow the 
 wild, free breath it brought from sea and mountain and 
 moor into valleys of Tophet and over Fields of Aceldama, 
 where the air had become heated and noxious and full of 
 oppression ; it blew and sowed there the fresh seeds of Na- 
 ture it brought on its wings. So this Chartism blew and 
 stirred the oppressed hearts of men. It blew and it passed 
 — but it left fructifying seed, of good and of evil, even in 
 such a hard, wayside spot as Ilkastane. 
 
 END OB* THE PROLOGUE. 
 
THE STOEY. 
 
 " Not only wo, the latest seed of Time, 
 New men, that in the flying of a wheel 
 Cry down tho past,— not only we, that prate 
 Of rights and wrongs, have loved the people well." 
 
 Tennyson ; Godiva. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LEPINE AND SON. 
 
 So it came to pass that these two formidable Chartists, 
 George Hutcheon and Fergus O'Rhea, were not caught by 
 the agents of tlie Law. The warrant remained out against 
 them, and the Fiscal still kept a suspicious eye on Ilkastane 
 and occasionally instructed one or two of his men in blue 
 to give a special "look in" here and there, and to ask the 
 postman about the correspondence of the outlawed Hutcli- 
 eon's brother. But nothing happened, nothing was found 
 — not even a letter addressed to James Hutcheon — to stir 
 afresh the waning interest in the designs and movements 
 of the pestilent Chartists. And thus came the snow and the 
 New Year, 1849 (what an old year it seems to us now !), 
 bringing much solemn and festive distraction in the city of 
 Inverdoon, and much misery and want in the hamlet of 
 Ilkastane ; for when griping hunger within adds its pains 
 and chills to those of pinching cold without, then is there 
 misery indeed. Of the condition of Ilkastane, Inverdoon 
 heard very little, and that little only confirmed its excellent 
 citizens in their belief that the weaving suburb was given 
 over to perdition because of its wild, wicked Chartism and 
 its persistent neglect of the Sabbath and of " the means of 
 grace.'' 
 
 33 
 
24 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 With the Spring came rumours of unrest and revolution 
 which attracted the eyes of the country (using the word in 
 a strictly parliamentary sense) to the Continent, with an 
 anxious side glance to see what effect the news would have 
 on the prostrate Chartists. In Ilkastane, at least, it had no 
 effect at all, for its weavers were more and more engrossed 
 with the invasion and conquest of their own rights and 
 privileges. The great twin Powers of Steam and Iron, after 
 one of two tentative efforts, had resolutely advanced and 
 settled themselves in field and haugh, to belch over the vil- 
 lage their foul smoke, and hot, noxious vapours, with their 
 clanking and whirring machines to deride its slow, wooden 
 hand-looms, and slowly but surely to draw the work from 
 its hands and the pith from its life. There is in Nature, we 
 are told, a law v/hich is known as " The Survival of the Fit- 
 test " ; in Commerce there is a similar law — The Survival of 
 the Cheapest. By that law the industry on which Ilkastane 
 prided itself was doomed to extinction. For a long time 
 the craft of weaving by hand-loom had been sinking into a 
 poverty-stricken occupation ; for some years it had been 
 confined in Ilkastane to one fabric — that known to ladies 
 as Wincey. For years the unwearying, clattering power- 
 looms of the mills had been reeling off a thousand yards of 
 all qualities of linen for one of any sort produced by the 
 careful hand of the weaver ; but the hand-looms, until re- 
 cently, had had a monopoly of Wincey manufacture. Then 
 fashion took it into its head to make women's petticoats and 
 winter dresses of that combination of cotton and wool, 
 which had at its best — when made in the hand-loom — the 
 substance and softness of cloth. And then intervened the 
 agents for the power:looms and undertook to produce the 
 stuff at half the price. " Ah," said the weavers, " but not 
 half so good." "We shall see," said the masters of the 
 power-looms. 
 
 Thus the struggle began between the cunning hand of 
 the weaver and the insensate might of imprisoned steam. 
 And thus the year 1849 passed away, and brought another 
 winter of misery and another new year, which again passed 
 in like manner. Strange things had been doing in that 
 
LEPINE AND SON. 25 
 
 time on the Continent (for instance, a Second Empire had 
 got itself established in France), which had somewhat dis- 
 turbed even the equanimity of England; but Ilkastane 
 thought little and spoke little of any of them. It was con- 
 cerned that its work and its wages were getting less and 
 less. Then came the year 1851, with its monster show in 
 Hyde Park of the indastries of all nations, and its vast con- 
 course of people of all nations — people with a big " P " and 
 people with a small. This was lauded as the inauguration 
 of the universal reign of Peace and Good Will among men, 
 and Ilkastane, like many another place, was moved to hope 
 a better day was dawning ; but this blaze of promise was 
 only the blaze of fireworks, which left things by-and-by 
 looking darker than ever. So passed for Ilkastane the years 
 '52 and '53, with their mad rush fi'om country and town to 
 the newly-discovered gold fields of Australia. Then came 
 the war with Russia, which stirred our country to its depths, 
 and so opened the year '56, in the April of which peace was 
 declared, and the heart of the country rejoiced. But the 
 heart of Ilkastane was sad, and thus the necessities of om* 
 story take us again to the weaving suburb. 
 
 Near to Ilkastane on the westward, about five minutes' 
 walk up the lane called Burnside, was an old manor-house, 
 known to natives as Corbie Ha', but styled by its present 
 possessor, Bailie Lepine, the Chdteau Rouen. A bailie with 
 a French name and possessing a "' chateau " requires some 
 explanation. Forty years before the beginning of this story 
 there had been brought as prisoner of war, to Penycuik, 
 near Edinburgh, a bulky, shrewd Frenchman of Lille, 
 named Edmond Lepine. There he languished, with other 
 Frenchmen, on gruel and red herrings, earning a little 
 tobacco-money by making toy sabots and other things for 
 his jailors and the people who came to stare at the prisoners. 
 To the canny, solid Fleming his Scotch jailors (who be- 
 longed to a corps of militia) took rather kindly ; they found 
 him liker themselves than the other prisoners. When peace 
 was proclaimed, shrewd Edmond Lepine, perceiving that 
 there was a better chance of making a living among his 
 British captors than in his own disorganised country, ac- 
 
26 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 cepted the invitation of Saunders M'Cree (who had been one 
 of his jailors and intimates) to go north with him. So he 
 came to Inv«rdoon. He had been brought up as a weaver 
 of tapestry, but he could turn his hand to any kind of weav- 
 ing. He found employment in a small carpet factory, and 
 speedily found favour with his master by his industry and 
 cleverness, saved money, became partner in the business, 
 married his master's only child (as such lucky rascals 
 always do), and finally inherited all his master's property. 
 Then he installed himself in his late master's home, and 
 changed its name. Lepine was proud of his " chateau "; and, 
 indeed, with its thick granite walls, its narrow, sombre win- 
 dows, and its turret round which the rooks swung and 
 cawed on the old fu-s, it had something of a castellate look. 
 A tradition lingered in local histories that it was the re- 
 mains of a monastery. Lepine prospered, and by-and-by he 
 was elected a Bailie of Inverdoon, and after that Provost 
 for the year. Then it was that he caused a bell to be hung 
 in the turret to announce to the rooks and the people of 
 Ilkastane (who showed him less respect than he would have 
 liked) when Monsieur le Pr6v6t dined. 
 
 On a dark, cold night in the beginning of March, 1856, 
 the bell clanged out as it had done nightly for years, in cold 
 and wet, in storm and calm, in sunshine and moonlight, 
 when the leaves were on the trees and when they had not a 
 leaf to cover their nakedness — it clanged out and was 
 acknowledged by a sleepy, irregular caw from the rooks in 
 the treetops, as who should say, " There it goes again ; it's 
 seven o'clock." The last vibration of the bell had scarcely 
 throbbed out of the air when Bailie Lepine sat down at the 
 head of the dining table, tucked his napkin into his waist- 
 coat, and with his head motioned to the large, depressed- 
 looking serving-man in rusty black to remove the cover of 
 the soup. 
 
 " Jaques, where is that boy ? Is it that he cannot hear 
 the bell ? The bell is loud enough ! It is three minute 
 past seven, and tlie soup it becomes cold ! " 
 
 This and more he muttered, glancing the while at the 
 clock on his right on the mantel-piece, and stirring about 
 
LEPINE AND SON. 27 
 
 the soup preparatory to ladling it out. A handsome young 
 man of two or three-and-twenty entered, handsomely 
 dressed, and leisurely took his seat. 
 
 " What-a-devil have keep you, George ? " exclaimed 
 George's father, at once serving the soup. " I sit me down 
 always when the bell ring, and another time I begin with- 
 out you." 
 
 " I wasn't quite ready, father," said the young man, 
 stroking the young growth on his lip. 
 
 " What, you was shaving again — hein * " A smile of 
 watery melancholy for an instant altered the expression of 
 the depressed serving-man. " Ah," said the Bailie, noting 
 it, " what you think, Jaques ? He shave, I believe, twice, 
 two times, a day to make come the beard 1 Sacrebleu 1 
 He will be glad one day as me to have no beard," and he 
 put his hand to his square rough jaw. 
 
 " Jaques knows," said the young man, " that I don't 
 shave. I shall never shave." 
 
 " And for what not, sir ? " asked the Bailie. " All gen 
 tlemen shave them except a little." 
 
 " Perhaps they do, father ; but I think a gentleman 
 should consider what suits him. It's all very well for you 
 to shave ; you have the jaw of a Roman Emperor or a 
 French King, and you look imposing with it bare. Me, I 
 have a lanky Scotch jaw " 
 
 " Your late mother gave you that, poor woman," said the 
 Bailie. 
 
 " And, I think, it will look best covered, if Nature will 
 be so good as send me hair enough." 
 
 " Ah, she will, if you encourage her with the razor. But 
 I like not to see hair on the face, me. Why eat you not 
 plenty food enough ? That would cover over your jaw 
 more better as hair. Hein, Jaques ? " 
 
 " Out, m^sieu' f " said Jaques absently. 
 
 " Parbleu ! When I was young I was hungry for the meals 
 all and everyone. Ah, hungry before and hungry after." 
 
 " You were hungry, I reckon, when you were at Peny- 
 cuik, father— and thin, too. You didn't show such a fine 
 jaw then — and you didn't shave, did you 2 " 
 
28 THE KIXG OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 " Ah, boy, speak not of it— speak not. Non de noms ! 
 Ah, mats, but that was the time of times ! Ah, pfui ! 
 Pass the wine, boy ! Ah, well, this new Empire, perhaps, 
 is peace and good for business, but that !— it was fight, fight, 
 fight ever and always. The devil he was in all and every- 
 one then. Me— they took me, though I was not for war or 
 politic, but for business ! " 
 
 They continued dinner for some time in silence. Then 
 the Bailie resumed. 
 
 " Apropos of France, George, a despatch have come from 
 Courvoisier of Lille, that he like not the Wincey what we 
 send. It is the same thing what Watt of Glasgow wrote — 
 ' The Wincey want substance.' Now that will not do for 
 me at all. I wish to see business come, not go." 
 
 " It seems, father, that what the weavers say is true. 
 The steam-loom will never do the fine, firm work of the 
 hand-loom." 
 
 " It must, and it shall, me I tell you. And you sit there 
 and say it to me quietly, as if, no ! it do not matter to you 
 the least thing in the world ! Why take you not the inter- 
 est in the business ? " 
 
 " I do, father. I take all the interest I can," said George, 
 looking at his fingers. 
 
 " Interest you can ! It is necessary that you make your- 
 self interest. Business is always like a girl, sir. If you do 
 not attend, if you do not think much, very much, every- 
 thing of her, she will go away to another. Now, attend 
 you. It is time you have sow what they say your wild oat- 
 meal and sit you to business ! Our mill — I say ' our,'' be- 
 cause it is for you after me — our mill must make the 
 Wincey good and to please the people what buy, but the 
 time we find out how I have thought of something. The 
 weavers of Ilkastane they do nothing almost, eh ? Well, 
 we offer them as much work as ever they can, but cheap — 
 much more cheap than they have done. We will lose much 
 in all case, because — what you think ? — we will send out 
 their pieces the same thing as our own, and we will get 
 orders, full orders, which we will execute in our mill when 
 the looms have been made to work more firm." 
 
LEPINE aNd son. 29 
 
 " But suppose, father, the looms in our mill won't work 
 firmer ? " 
 
 "Ah, va-t'-en! go away. You are Scotch. You have 
 only 'suppose' and 'if and 'but.' But now after dinner 
 I wish you go and bring Hew Tamson here. It is necessary 
 we begin at once." 
 
 " All right, father," answered George. 
 
 Hew Tamson was one of the very few Ilkastane weavei-s 
 who had had astuteness enough to see that the hand-loom 
 was doomed, and suppleness enough at once to alter the 
 tenor of his life. He had taken service under steam. When 
 Bailie Lepine had built the Hargate mill and filled it with 
 power-looms, with the unconcealed purpose of making all 
 the Wincey he could get orders for, Tamson, dry and smooth, 
 had gone and offered himself as " tenter " or overseer. He 
 was a good workman, and a hard master, and had served 
 the Bailie well, especially in getting girls from Ilkastane to 
 ■'mind" the looms — girls who had some knowledge of 
 weaving. 
 
 It was with an alacrity rather surprising that George, 
 directly dinner was over, pushed his chair back, gave a 
 glance in the glass to see that his hair and his necktie were 
 in order, and said he was " going for " Tamson. How 
 his father approved of that quick response to his appeal that 
 he should put more interest into his work ! How much 
 more would he have approved if he had seen the young 
 man striding along the Burnside as with seven-leagued 
 boots, turning neither to the right hand nor to the left, 
 except when it was necessary that he should, to ascend the 
 Ilkastane loan and to enter Tamson's door ! The loan was 
 dark, and there was scarce a sound of life to be heard, 
 except that of the boys playing -hide-and-seek up and 
 down the closes. As he passed the end of Hutcheon's 
 close there was, too, the sound of a solitary loom ; that 
 seemed to promise well for his father's scheme. He rapped 
 and rapped again on Tamson's door, and a leism-ely foot 
 came grinding over the sanded flags of the passage (for 
 Tamson was wealthy enough to have a " but " and a 
 " ben "), and the latch was lifted, and the heavy door 
 
30 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 opened with a scraping on the flags sufficient to set the 
 teeth on edge. 
 
 " Winna ye come in by ? " asked Tamson's wife when he 
 inquired for Tamson. 
 
 He thanked her, but said he could not enter ; he had 
 somewhere else to go. Would she tell her husband to step 
 round to Corbie Ha' ? His father particularly wished to 
 speak to him. 
 
 "Eh, guidsakes," exclaimed the woman, who had been 
 peering and listening with much attention, " it's Maister 
 George ! Eh, come in, man, come in. Hew'll be glad to 
 see ye." 
 
 He thanked her again, repeated his message and went 
 his way. The door did not even make a pretense of closing 
 behind him, nor did Tamson's wife pretend to go at once to 
 deliver the message ; she stepped out with her arms akimbo 
 and watched the elegant figure of the young man disappear 
 up the loan into the darkness. Then she closed the door, 
 went within to her husband and gave him the message, 
 adding — "He said he had somewhaur other to gang. He's 
 gane up the loan ; wha can there be that way ? " Tamson, 
 who was as curious and as much of a gossip as his wife, 
 speculated on the matter with her for some moments and 
 then prepared to go to the Bailie's. 
 
 " An he had gane doon the loan," said Tamson in con- 
 clusion, "without waitin' for me, I mith ha' guessed he 
 was aff to do a bit courtin'." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE TRYST IN THE HAUGH. 
 
 As George Lepine marched up the loan, the dense dark- 
 ness of cloud began to thin, and break, and disperse. The 
 thick pall of vapours that covered the sky did not so much 
 
THE TIIYST IN THE HAUGH. 31 
 
 seem to drift away, as to lift and melt and disappear in the 
 air, till the growing moon showed tilted in the south, and 
 shed her chaste and romantic light on all the world — on 
 poor, sordid Ilkastane as on rich and comfortable Inver- 
 doon. When cloud obscured the sky the lurid glow of In- 
 verdoon shone high enough to be reflected even over Ilka- 
 stane, but when the moon came forth, the glow of the city 
 was suppressed, and the benign light of heaven was over all 
 and in all, touching all to strange and gentle loveliness. 
 
 When George Lepine reached the top of the loan, he 
 was in one of the ways that led to Inverdoon. He turned 
 his face toward the city, and buttoned up his overcoat, for 
 the wind met him full from the east. The air was crisp and 
 bracing, and the young man marched briskly along, while 
 the bright and crescent moon cheerily kept him company 
 on the right. His step was elastic and buoyant — a little too 
 buoyant one might say ; for, while he put his toe very dis- 
 tinctly and firmly to the ground first, his heel rose very 
 notably with every step — which (say they who are cunning 
 in tokens of character) signifies that he who walks so is 
 both obstinate and impulsive, and will certainly have ups 
 and downs of feeling and fortune. The way was lonely, 
 but presently George became aware that he had other com- 
 pany than the moon. He heard behind him a step that en- 
 deavoured to measure itself by his. It occasionally broke 
 out of its measure, however, into an undignified trot. 
 Glancing over his shoulder, without slackening his pace, 
 he saw a little boy in a kilt and a Glengarry cap, and he 
 was amused to note that the boy was trying hard to imitate 
 his way of walking, even to the spring of the heel. He 
 stopped suddenly and turned, and the boy stopped too, a 
 little way off, and looked as if inclined to run away. 
 
 " Are you going into the town ? " asked George. 
 
 "Na," said the boy, " I'm just out to meet the Maister." 
 
 "But you're going this way,'' said George, "and you'd 
 better keep me company." 
 
 So the boy came near, and they walked on side by side, 
 the boy then attempting no other than his natural pace. 
 
 " And what's your name ? " asked George. 
 
32 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 " Hamish M'Cree," answered the boy. 
 
 " M'Cree ! " said George, looking' down sharply at him. 
 "Oh, you're Hamish?" 
 
 " Ay," said the boy ; " wha did ye think I was 2 " 
 
 " Oh," said George, with a laugh, " I thought you were 
 Rob Eoy, or, at least, MacTavish of Tavish." 
 
 " Na," said the boy seriously, " I'm no that." 
 
 " Wouldn't you like to be ? " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Rob Roy, or MacTavish of Tavish ? " 
 
 " I'd like fine," answered the boy with a touch of shyness, 
 " to be Rob Roy ; I dinna ken the other ane." 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed George, "you know Rob Roy? 
 You've read about him, I suppose. And you go to school? " 
 
 "Ay,'' said the boy, " I gang to the school, and I learn 
 g'ography and gremmar." 
 
 " You're far advanced," said George ; " and how old are 
 ye, Hamish?" 
 
 "I'm seven gaun acht." (By which he meant he was 
 between seven and eight.) 
 
 "Dear me," said the young man, "I'd have thought you 
 were ten or twelve. You're big for your age.'' 
 
 "They a' say that," murmured Hamish. "But I canna 
 help it." 
 
 " Why," asked the young man, " should you want to help 
 it ? You're big, but I think you're clever, too." 
 
 "Ay," said Hamish, with a twinkle, "but folk might ha' 
 thought me cleverer if I had been sma'er." 
 
 George Lepine laughed a loud, hearty laugh, and Ha- 
 mish M'Cree looked at him and laughed also. 
 
 "You're the queerest boy I ever met," said George. "I 
 hope we may become better acquainted. Now I must leave 
 you." 
 
 The road lay past the end of a little dell (called " The 
 Hoodie's Haugh "), into which a path dipped, and on the 
 farther side of which lay the Hargate Mill of the Lepines. 
 
 "Are ye gaun to the mill? " asked Hamish. 
 
 " You know me, then? " said George. 
 
 " Ay," said the boy, " I ken ye fine. Ye're young Maister 
 
THE TRYST IN THE HAUGH. 33 
 
 Lepine. The folk a' say Lippen, but my Aunt Elsie learned 
 me how to say't." 
 
 " Oh," exclaimed George, " your Aunt Elsie. Well, good- 
 night, my lad ; " and he turned to descend the path into the 
 Haugh. 
 
 " I say," exclaimed Hamish hurriedly ; " ha'e ye mony 
 books to read? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; a good many. Why ? " 
 
 " Will ye lend me ane? I'll tak' care o't." 
 
 " To be sure, I will. Come on Sunday and see me, and 
 I'll give you a book." 
 
 And he ran down the path into the dell, while the boy 
 continued along the road. But it was not to the mill he 
 was bound. In a nook of the Haugh was a dried-up foun- 
 tain which had once been called a " Holy Well." It now 
 looked, with the spout wrenched from the leopard's head of 
 iron set in the low, moss-covered wall, with the parched and 
 gaping throat exposed, and with the accumulation of rub- 
 bish and the growth of weeds, as respectable a ruin as many 
 people go hundreds of miles to see. Near this ruin stood in 
 the full moonlight a female figure that was of too warm 
 and human a substance to be the lingering spirit of the 
 well. She had a shawl wrapped about her and drawn over 
 her head as a hood. George Lepine went briskly to her, 
 and took her in his arms. 
 
 " I must look at your dear, bonny face, Elsie ! " said he, 
 putting back the shawl from her head. 
 
 "Dinna be sae silly, George," said she gently. 
 
 "I must be silly about you, Elsie," said he ; "you make 
 me silly.'' 
 
 " That's an ill word to use, George, but I sair misdoubt 
 me that it's true. I dinna want ye to be silly, though I 
 dinna ken what to do or say to mak' ye sensible." 
 
 " You're sensible enough for us both, Elsie," said the 
 young man, taking her head between his hands and looking 
 into her eyes. " You're adorable ! " 
 
 And, indeed, she might well have excited the enthusiasm 
 of any young man who had not the blood of a mere fish in 
 his veins. She was of a voluptuous type of beauty rare 
 
34 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 among Scotch women of any rank. She looked more of an 
 Irish than a Scottish maiden. She was tall and graceful, 
 and withal well-rounded. Her eyes were richly shaded, 
 and were of a wonderful deep blue ; but her hair was brown 
 — a warm wavy brown. Her white forehead was low but 
 broad, her cheek smooth and rosy, her chin full and seduc- 
 tively rounded, and her mouth had a firm, an almost child- 
 like pout of ripe innocence, her lips being such full, rich 
 buds as youthful poets have often raved about but have 
 seldom seen. Such was Elsie M'Cree — a perfect marvel of 
 warm beauty in her lowly station and in a hard, cold coun- 
 try — and especially a marvel as the daughter of Saunders 
 M'Cree and his wife Eppie. 
 
 George Lepine led Elsie to their usual haunt in this 
 trysting place — a gnarled thorn-tree, which stretched out a 
 strong arm against the bank as a commodious seat for 
 lovers. 
 
 "Who do you think, Elsie," he asked, when they had sat 
 down together, " who do you think I had for company on 
 my way here ? " 
 
 "I canna say, George." 
 
 "A friend and relation of yours, Elsie." 
 
 " A frien'J Wha can ye mean? " 
 
 " Hamish— the laddie you've told me about. He's a droll 
 little man." 
 
 "Ay," said Elsie, "he's very auld-farrant." (That is, 
 " old-fashioned.") 
 
 " He asked if I would lend him a book, and I bade him 
 come and see me on Sunday.'' 
 
 "You're very kind, George," said Elsie, putting her 
 hand in his. 
 
 "But the oddest thing to me," continued George, "was 
 to hear him call you Aunt Elsie." 
 
 " I am his aunt," returned Elsie simply ; " his mither's my 
 sister, ye ken. Puir thing! I've never told ye, George. 
 She's no right in her head. She doesna ken him well as 
 her ain son, and he doesna ken her as his mither. He kens 
 neither faither nor mither, puir loon ! We're an unlucky 
 family ! " and she withdrew her hand and wiped her eyes. 
 
THE TRYST IN THE HAUGH. 35 
 
 "Tell me about it," said George, taking her hand again 
 and tenderly kissing it. 
 
 " It's sair and sad, George," said she. " I was a wee bit 
 lassie, but I mind a' about it. It was when the Chairtists 
 were a' to the fore. My father was ane o' them, and my 
 sister Kitty was amang them. She was a bonny lass, I 
 believe." 
 
 " She was your sister, Elsie." 
 
 " Of course she was, George," said Elsie, in simple dis- 
 regard of the delicate compliment. "And she was coorted 
 by George Hutcheon, a clever young man that was thought 
 a great deal o'. I fancy he didna mean ony wrang to her, 
 but he had to hide for his life. The very night the laddie 
 Hamish was born — an awfu' night o' storm it was ! — he 
 sailed awa' to foreign pairts, and Kitty's been daft ever sin- 
 syne. He may be dead, or he may be living. Naebody 
 has ever heard, no even his ain brither ! " 
 
 "It is a sad story, Elsie." 
 
 " We're an unlucky family, George, and I sair misdoubt 
 me what may come o' our acquaintance ! " 
 
 " Oh, Elsie, don't say that ! You don't think I would do 
 you any harm ! " 
 
 " I'm sure o' that, George. I'm sure ye wouldna want 
 to break my heart, and I dinna think Kitty's sweet- 
 heart wanted to break hers. It just comes about ye kenna 
 how." 
 
 "I'd sooner break my own than yours, my dear, sweet 
 Elsie ! " And he drew her to him and kissed her so that for 
 a moment or two she could not say a word. " Why are you 
 so sad to-night, Elsie ? " he asked. 
 
 " I've been thinking things over, George, and I'm no sure 
 ava' that I'm doing what's right." 
 
 " I thought you loved me, Elsie ? " 
 
 " I lo'e ye, George — yes, I lo'e ye ! But I canna let ye 
 spoil your life for me ! Ye've your father to think o'. He 
 wouldna like ye to marry me. I'm no a leddy." 
 
 "You're better than a lady, Elsie." 
 
 "Dinna haver, George. And just suppose your father 
 would let ye marry me. I wouldna feel at hame ; I couldna 
 
3(3 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 bear to be looked down on. I'd hae a sair heart, and I'd sit 
 me down and dee ! " 
 
 " And who would or could look down on you, Elsie ? 
 Who is my father that he should look down on you ? He 
 came to this country a prisoner of war ; and when he began 
 in Ilkastane he was poorer than your father. He has been 
 pushing and lucky, that's all. But now, Elsie, instead of 
 thinking in that sad, humble way, why don't you do what 
 I asked you to do a while ago? Leave the mill, it's not fit 
 for such as you, and go and stay with my old governess at 
 Lochhead and be her pupil. I'll make up to your parents 
 for the loss of your wages." 
 
 " Ye're unco kind, George, but I dinna think it would be 
 right for me to leave my ain folk." 
 
 " You'd have to leave your ain folk, Elsie, if you mar- 
 ried me. Come, let me persuade you. I can arrange it at 
 once." 
 
 And he set about his persuasion with such arguments as 
 lovers have used since the beginning of time. He drew her 
 close to him, and he took a ring from his own finger and 
 pressed it upon hers to bind her closer still. 
 
 They were thus occupied with sweet converse when the 
 sound of voices interrupted them, and from their retreat 
 they saw descending the side of the dell next the town 
 two tall men and a boy. George Lepine recognised the 
 boy without difficulty, in the moonlight, as Hamish 
 M'Cree. 
 
 " Aneo' them is the Maister," whispered Elsie, "the ane 
 in the broad bonnet ; I dinna ken the other." 
 
 " Hamish," said George, " told me he was going to meet 
 the Maister. Why do you both call him the Maister ? " 
 
 " Ow," answered Elsie, " I dinna weel ken. A'body calls 
 him the Maister, or Maister Hutcheon — he's the brither o' 
 the young man I told ye o', that was sweetheart years ago 
 to my sister Kitty.'' 
 
 They were silent, Maister Hutcheon was speaking. He 
 and his companions had stopped by the ruined well. 
 
 "Ye mind the place ? " said he. "It was here the folk 
 often cam' to find nettles to mak' broth in that terrible 
 
THE TRYST IN THE HAtQH. 37 
 
 year, the year ye went awa' ; and here we met and here we 
 mingled in the daft business that sent ye awa'." 
 
 " There was no mill standing there then ? " queried the 
 other, in a good English accent. 
 
 " No, man ; there was no mill there then, and the Haugh 
 wasna made an ash-pit o', and the burn wasna dirty, and 
 the well wasna dry. The braw mill and a' the braw things 
 that come o't are the result o' a pretty way we've got in this 
 country ; we kick out our ain folk at the back door, man " 
 — and he clapped his hand firmly on his companion's broad 
 shoulder — '' and stretch out our arms to welcome a' kinds o' 
 foreign trash in at the front ! " 
 
 " By G — d, you're right, Hutcheon ! " said the other. 
 
 " Man," continued Hutcheon, " it mak's your heart sair to 
 see your own folk so hadden down — wantin' both bit and 
 sup — and this bailie creature ! If I had my way I'd pull 
 that mill down till not one stone was standing on another, 
 and I'd hang the miller to that tree ! " 
 
 "Ye speak out better than ye did eight years ago," said 
 the other. 
 
 " I'm changed, man ; I'm changed," said Hutcheon. 
 "I've been thinkin' out things a' my lone." 
 
 He turned and strode away, and the man and the boy 
 went with him. 
 
 "The Maister's a fine-looking man," said George, "but 
 he's terribly excited. He wouldn't mind hanging me. too, 
 I suppose, though I am half a Scotsman." 
 
 " Ow," said Elsie, " he'd hang naebody. He's the kindest 
 man i' the world, but he gets awfu' angry when he sees the 
 folk sae poor." 
 
 "Who's the other man, I wonder?" said George. "Do 
 you think it might be his brother come back? " 
 
 Elsie said nothing, but she wondered, too. 
 
38 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE MASTER OF HUTCHEON. 
 
 HuTCHEON was excited; there is no doubt about it. 
 That morning he had received a letter — a very short letter 
 — bearing the Edinburgh post-mark. He was simply and 
 curtly asked to meet a man who had travelled with his 
 brother in foreign parts, and who would arrive in Inver- 
 doon by such and such a train. That was all ; there was 
 neither address at the head of the letter, nor signature at the 
 end. Hutcheon went, in the wild hope that the man he was 
 asked to meet might be his brother, who would fear to write 
 more openly, or to sign his name. He met, however, not 
 his long-lost Geordie, but his companion in exile — O'Rhea. 
 He led him home with him to Ilkastane, as we have seen — 
 turning aside for a few minutes into the Hoodie Haugh — 
 all with results which will develop themselves anon. 
 
 When they arrived in the Ilkastane loan, Hamish, very 
 loath, was sent home to the M'Cree's to bed, and Hutcheon 
 and his guest continued their way through the close to the 
 long, low rooms over the weaving-shop where last we saw 
 them. 
 
 " Who is the boy, Hutcheon? " asked O'Rhea. 
 
 " Kitty's," answered Hutcheon. " He was born the very 
 night you and George went awa'." 
 
 O'Rhea said no more, but Hutcheon, had he looked in 
 his companion's face, might have noted a change in it ; the 
 eyes seemed to grow larger, and the skin to grow greyer. 
 
 Arrived in the room which was workshop and sitting- 
 room combined, Hutcheon lighted his two usual wax can- 
 dles stuck in massive candlesticks (the candles and the 
 candlesticks were the only loud notes of luxury about the 
 place — all else was rude and simple), and his guest sat down 
 and looked with meditative and reminiscent eyes around 
 him. 
 
 " My G— d ! Hutcheon ! " said he, throwing up his head 
 and permitting a ring of emotion in his voice. " How it all 
 
THE MASTER OP HUTCHEON. 39 
 
 comes back! Here you sat with M'Cree and Stevea, and 
 
 there I sat with George! And we talked ! My 
 
 G— d I " 
 
 Hutcheon looked at O'Rhea, and remarked more particu- 
 larly than he had yet done the changes that had come to 
 pass upon him. He was thin and seemed ill ; and his red 
 beard was sprinkled copiously with grey, as was also the 
 hair of his head, which was become thinner on the crown, 
 though where it flourished it stuck up as obstinately as ever. 
 His hand shook so that Hutcheon asked him if he felt ill 
 or cold. 
 
 " It's ague, Hutcheon — ague ! " he answered. " I'm dy- 
 ing, my boy — dying ! And I've come here to find some 
 dog-hole to die in, near somebody I know." 
 
 " Dinna clack havers, man. Ye'll rest ye here, make 
 yourself at hame, and ye'll soon be a' right, and live niony 
 a year yet." 
 
 " No, Hutcheon," said O'Rhea ; " I'll not impose upon 
 you to that extent. I'll accept your hospitality for a day or 
 two, and thank you — but no more, my boy — I mean I'll 
 accept no more. I am not quite destitute. You see I've no 
 luggage " 
 
 " I see ye havena ; but whatever I have is at yoiu' sei-vice 
 — sarks and stockings, and what ye will." 
 
 " Thank you again. But I've brought home a little bit 
 of money, and when I can look round I'll provide myself 
 with what I need ; a shanty for myself — for I cannot live 
 long with any mortal creature, however much I may like 
 the person — and a dud or two. So, now that's settled, let's 
 talk of other things." 
 
 " We must ha'e supper first," said Hutcheon. 
 
 He had clearly laid in extra provision for his expected 
 guest. He had soon spread his table amply from the con- 
 tents of his cupboard — smoked mutton (an inland delicacy), 
 white bread, and oat-cakes and butter. There was no liquid 
 of any kind on the table ; Hutcheon 's fashion (like that of 
 many of those days) was to finish eating and theii to drink. 
 So when the eating was done that night, he put the kettle 
 on and brought forth a grey-beard of whisky to make toddy. 
 
40 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 When the toddy was made, Hutcheon sat down to help his 
 guest to drink it and to talk. 
 
 On the way home from Inverdoon they had spoken of 
 George, and in the desultory conversation over food they 
 had resumed the subject. In brief, what news O'Rhea had 
 to give came to this : When they arrived in London, seven 
 and a-half years before, they sought at once for a ship sail- 
 ing to Australia. Little more than a year of Australia was 
 enough for them, when they parted— George to seek his 
 fortune in India, and O'Rhea to fiad a new El Dorado. 
 They had never met again, and, regarding his own adven- 
 tures since their parting, O'Rhea was very close. 
 
 "I'm disappointed," said Hutcheon, when they set- 
 tled down to their toddy, "not to ha'e heard more o' 
 George." 
 
 " I can't tell you more," said O'Rhea, " because I don't 
 know more. But George is canny ; don't despond about 
 him. He'll turn up smiling when you least expect it, just 
 like me ; only he'll not come back a miserable prodigal like 
 me. He'll appear with sandal-wood boxes stuffed with 
 Cashmere shawls, and with bags of Golconda diamonds and 
 John Company rupees, for he's one of the lucky rascals that 
 can shake the pagoda tree." 
 
 Hutcheon did not understand his allusions, but he sat 
 looking at him in unembarassed silence as if he did, and 
 pulled his flowing moustachios. 
 
 " But come now," said O'Rhea, " let's talk about yourself, 
 Hutcheon. You're changed, you say, and I see you are. 
 But do you mean you've given up the Cause, that George 
 left in your keeping ? — the sacred Cause of Revolt ? " 
 
 " The Cause, man," said Hutcheon, with emphasis, " so 
 far as it means looking after and helping our own poor 
 folk, I'll never gi'e up, but the Cause, so far as it concerns 
 the ways and means o' Chartism, is an abomination to me 
 now." 
 
 " By G — d, that is a change, Hutcheon ! " said O'Rhea. 
 " Let's hear how it came about ; " and he leaned on the table, 
 prepared to listen as with the liveliest interest. 
 
 " Ye ken," began Hutcheon, " that it was more Geordie 
 
THE MASTER OF HUTCHEOX. 41 
 
 tlian me tliat was ta'en up wi' Chartism ; I went into't just 
 because he was in it." 
 
 " I know," said O'Rhea, " you never came forward, not 
 much. Fortunate for you that you didn't, or you'd have 
 liad to hide and run as we had." 
 
 " It was no fear that held me back," said Hutcheon, with 
 a quick flush ; " ye ken that, I suppo.se. I didna like it ; it 
 went somehow against my nature. I didna ken my own 
 mind." 
 
 " You were old enough, I believe, Hutcheon ; " 
 
 " I was flve-and-twenty ; but at that age, man, we north- 
 ern folk are raw in body and mind. I couldna tell it to 
 mysel' at that time, but I can now, that ye a' seemed to me 
 either bellowing nowt * or bleating sheep. We a' wanted 
 something, and we a' roared for't, without system, and wi' 
 no muckle chance o' gettin' it. And we didna get it. Now 
 it has been borne in on me that that's no the way to do 
 onything. The most o' folk are made to be ruled and 
 ordered. They're best off when they're ruled and ordered ; 
 and they must be ruled and ordered if things are no to run 
 a' through other." 
 
 " I suppose," said O'Rhea, considering Hutcheon keenlj', 
 " you've been reading some book." 
 
 " De'il a book. I've just thought it out, tramping ower 
 hill and haugh." 
 
 " Hutcheon," said the other, leaning back in his chair, 
 " you're just a d — d aristocrat ! " 
 
 " I carena what name you or any others ca' me," said 
 Hutcheon, rising and standing with his back to the fire, 
 and locating down on O'Rhea, " but I mean to manage my 
 own folk here in Ilkastane. God has put me over them, and 
 I must rule them for their good, and manage for them ! 
 It's no a big dependency, but it's big enough for me." 
 
 O'Rhea looked up in surprise at the fervour of these 
 woi'ds, and was struck strangely with the air of dignity and 
 authority that invested Hutcheon. 
 
 " Ah, yes," said he with a tone of conviction that had 
 
 * Cattle. 
 
42 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 the faintest twang of mockery about it, " to be sure ! I 
 forgot." 
 
 What O'Rhea forgot was why Hutcheon was commonly 
 called " The Maister " in Ilkastane. As he tugged medi- 
 tatively at his beard and looked up at Hutcheon he recalled 
 the whole story, which was to the following effect : — Late 
 in last century, after the rigorous suppression of the Jaco- 
 bites, it was no uncommon thing to find the chieftains of 
 small Highland clans, or the heads of small feudal houses 
 who had been attainted, performing menial offices in the 
 Scottish towns. Being ignorant of handicrafts, while utter- 
 ly impoverished and powerless, they sank and disappeared 
 among the poorest of the people, the one thing that, for 
 some time, especially distinguished them from those among 
 whom they dwelt, being the pride of birth, which cropped 
 out on occasion. (It was just such a subversal of feudalism 
 and aristocracy as has recently taken effect in far Japan.) 
 Among the gallant gentlemen of the north who suffered 
 thus from his adherence to the cause of the Stuarts in 1745, 
 was the Master of Hutcheon, the eldest son of the old lord 
 or baron of that ilk. When " proud Cumberland " trampled 
 on the defeated of Culloden, the Master escaped home to 
 the Gordon country, and skulked from hiding-place to hid- 
 ing-place, protected by the Duke of Gordon, with whom he 
 claimed kinship. He was attainted and outlawed ; and he 
 finally settled down with a client of his house in the lonely 
 hamlet of Ilkastane, which then consisted of some dozen 
 cottages. His client was a weaver, and the Master, to hide 
 his identity at first, and afterwards to earn a living, took up 
 with weaving too. 
 
 He had a knowledge of wools, and he discovered he had 
 some business faculty, so that anon he prospered as an em- 
 ployer of weavers, and invited some of his followers to join 
 him with their families. Thus Ilkastane grew, and thus the 
 owner of most of the looms and employer of most of the 
 folk was generally called " The Maister " — though it was 
 only when all danger was over that the name of Hutcheon 
 was openly revived. Thus it came to pass, too, that the 
 Master, and his son after him, exercised in Ilkastane some- 
 
THE MASTER OP HUTCHEON. 43 
 
 thing of feudal authority. The son, however, let that lapse 
 very much ; for to him the traditions of his house had be- 
 come faint, and he had grown not unlike the average pros- 
 perous citizen. He added field to field and house to house, 
 and he sought to educate his two sons, James and George, 
 in all the learning of the towns. James, however, was 
 rather like his grandfather. He cared not to sit over his 
 books ; he loved the open air, and he played truant to such 
 purpose that he knew every tree and bush, and every 
 wrinkle on the face of Nature, for miles round Ilkastane, 
 while little of the lore of school had entered his mind. His 
 younger brother George, however, was of a slighter build 
 and a more studious turn. He stuck to his books, and went 
 to the University, and thence to a theological school to 
 study for orders in the Scottish Episcopal Church (the fam- 
 ily, like most of the Jacobite gentry, had been Episcopalian 
 for generations), when the Chartist moveinent came, and 
 things fell out as I have described in the Prologue. 
 
 So O'Rhea stroked his beard and regarded his host with 
 a new feeling. He had been wont to think Hutcheon a 
 man of no account ; but now he saw him stand as the repre- 
 sentative of romance and misfortune. O'Rhea was not 
 without generosity, and he admitted to himself that, now 
 he came really to look at Hutcheon, he appeared to him as 
 sufiicient an example of an aristocratic stock fallen from 
 its high estate as he had ever seen and could ever imagine. 
 
 " Of course ! I see it all ! " he exclaimed. " It's almost 
 as plain as a pikestafP that you're the Master of Hutcheon. 
 But you ought to wear a plumed bonnet, a steel breast- 
 plate, and great high-folded jack-boots with spurs, and you 
 ought to be ready to swing a cross-hilted sword from your 
 side." 
 
 Hutcheon stroked his red beard and smiled. And, in- 
 deed, he did look notably handsome and antique — with his 
 stalwart figure and his large humorous nose (of the slightly 
 drooping shape characteristic of the early Stuart kings), 
 his full, sweeping moustache, and his pointed Vandyke 
 beard. It was probably more by instinct of what was be- 
 coming to himself than by any knowledge of fashions that 
 
44 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 Hutcheon wore his beard in that style ; but so he wore it, 
 and he looked as gallant a cavalier as ever wore "hauberk 
 or wielded sword. Yet he was clad only in a coat of rough 
 blue, and had to his hand only a stout stick, and a broad 
 Scots bonnet. 
 
 " I've lost the shadow," said Hutcheon, " but I stick to the 
 substance." 
 
 "You're right, Hutcheon," said O'Rhea. "By G— d, 
 you're right. Your people— all people— need to be ruled, or 
 else there is what we call anarchy, or the devil to pay ! I've 
 seen that this many a day, but it doesn't do to tell that to 
 everyone. I'm as much of a feudalist and an aristocrat by 
 nature as anybody. There are men that are born to rule 
 other men ; and, by G— d ! the others had better submit to 
 being ruled, or it will be worse for them." 
 
 " Weel," said Hutcheon, " I'm no sure that I just alto- 
 gether mean that." 
 
 "Never mind," said O'Rhea, "It comes to the same 
 thing. I'm at one with you. There's my hand on't. Now 
 let's hear your plan, for I am sure there's something on 
 your mind." 
 
 On that demand Hutcheon was somewhat at a loss. He 
 stood and pulled his beard. He had no distinct plan of any 
 sort ready. He had much of the true Celt— full of compas- 
 sion and benevolence for his " folk," but with no clear, con- 
 crete design for the amelioration of their condition. 
 
 Now, O'Rhea was of another build. He had enough of 
 Celt in his composition to make him romantic and impul- 
 sive ; but yet he had sufficient Saxon to make him demand 
 a settled and sufficient purpose behind the most eloquent 
 talk. Hutcheon was putting himself forward before him as 
 the head and chief of these people. What was his purpose ? 
 He demanded to see it. 
 
 They drank their toddy, and they talked, till the multi- 
 tudinous clocks and watches around them marked the most 
 frantically varying hours, and yet O'Rhea could not get at 
 the Master of Hutcheon's deep design. That was because 
 there was no depth to be got at. 
 
 But O'Rhea went to bed, knitting his brows, and thinking 
 
THE BAILIE'S OFFER. 45 
 
 that Hutcheon had become far more reserved and wily than 
 a well regulated friend ought to be. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE bailie's offer. 
 
 Hew Tamson was a sharp man of business, who would 
 ojily let the grass grow under his feet if he thought he 
 could make hay of it at a future date. Having had his in- 
 terview with Bailie Lepine (while George was communing 
 with Elsie M'Cree), and having received his orders, he com- 
 municated that very night with some, and early the next 
 morning with others, of the weavers ; so that before noon 
 they might have been seen by twos and threes, in thread- 
 bare coats close-buttoned against the biting March wind, 
 making their way to the Hargate Mill in the Hoodie's 
 Haugh. 
 
 It was a strange and silent company that assembled in 
 the large, bare " receiving-room " of the mill, with its long 
 wide counter for the unfolding and measuring of finished 
 " pieces " of weaving. The Ilkastane weavers sat on forms 
 along the wall, or stood (the less shy of them) about the 
 stove in the middle of the room, dazed and deafened with 
 the sights and sounds of the mill. In passing in they had 
 seen through innumerable windows the iron looms working 
 furiously, the iron " lays " swinging without the touch of 
 human hands, and weaving the work that should be theirs ; 
 and now they sat listening to the mad rush of machinery, 
 the well-known birr of shuttles, the thump of lays beating 
 the threads of weft into fabric, and the cluck-click of the 
 caulms. Now and then, while they waited, a door opened 
 for some one to pass through in hot haste, and then the 
 sounds burst in upon them with redoubled force, and they 
 got a glimpse of the ferocious iron monsters that were 
 
46 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 devouring their work ; and tliere deepened in them an 
 inexpressible fear and hatred of it all. 
 
 It was notable that among the thirty or forty hand-loom 
 weavers assembled not one was young ; the young men had 
 mostly gone away as soldiers or as sailors, while a few had 
 found employment of one sort or another in Inverdoon. 
 Of those who stood about the stove were our old acquaint- 
 ances — M'Cree with his loud bu-h-h ! little M'Kay with his 
 asthmatic wheeze, and Steven the soldier with one eye. 
 Loudoun sat on a form with Hay — a very tall, black- 
 haired, large-boned, hollow-cheeked skeleton of a man. He 
 was the sick man of Ilkastane, whose terribly consumptive 
 look and great dark eyes appealed for the pity and got the 
 commiseration of everyone. 
 
 " How's a' wi' ye the day ? " asked Loudoun, in his 
 ear. 
 
 " Awfu' bad," said Hay in painful gasps. " But I'll be 
 better as the days get warmer. They're aye on the turn 
 now ; and I can tall by my feelings there's a change o' wind 
 i' the air. D'ye think the Bailie'll gi'e me a wab ? " 
 
 " Hoot, ay ! " said Loudoun, " what for no, man ? Ye're 
 a fine hand at the wincey.'' 
 
 " I say, lads," said Hew Tamson, appearing behind the 
 great counter from an inner door— his voice had a dry 
 plausibility which was not meant to irritate, but which did 
 — " dinna stan' aboot the stove ; the Bailie doesna like it. 
 It'll be mair respectfu' to be sitting down." 
 
 Tamson withdrew. The weavers looked at each other 
 and murmured ; they had not been used to that tone of 
 address, and they had been wont to call no man " Master " 
 but him of Hutcheon. Steven the one-eyed expressed the 
 general feeling. 
 
 " Demme ! " said he. " Wha's he ? And the Bailie doesna 
 like it ! By the muckle Jingo ! Will the Bailie gi'e me a 
 penny mair the yerd for sittin' down to please him? " 
 
 ''Bu-h-h ! " roared M'Cree, clearing his impressive throat. 
 " I kenned Bailie Lippen when he was a creeshie French- 
 man — and so did ye, Loudoun " 
 
 " Ay,'' said Loudoun, " weel that." 
 
THE BAILIE'S OFFER. 47 
 
 " And," continued the great M'Cree, " I'm no goin' to sit 
 down to please him if I want to stand." 
 
 " Will ye sit doon, and hand your tongues ? " said 
 Tamson, showing a bare head and angry eye at the inner 
 doorway. 
 
 " We're no tired, Hew," said Steven, shaking out a fiery 
 wink from his seeing eye. " Demmit, Hew, we're no school- 
 loons ! " 
 
 " Bu-h-h ! " said M'Cree. " It's juslit the principle. We 
 stand up for principle." 
 
 " Dinna be an auld fool, Saunders ! " said Tamson. 
 " Here's the Bailie comin'." 
 
 M'Cree grew as red as a turkey-cock ; but he sat down. 
 
 " Wi' their stuck-up aristocrats and bailies ! " he muttered. 
 " And syne they wonder that there's revolutions ! " 
 
 Presently there came through the inner door, with his 
 hat on, as if to go out, the Bailie. He came round the end 
 of the counter, and passed down the middle of the room. 
 
 "Ah, yes," said he, stopping by the stove, looking round 
 and speaking in a tone of recollection, " you men have come 
 for the wincey to weave. Yes ; well, there is one, two, three 
 order of good wincey — eh, Tamson ? — to make up very quick. 
 You have not had work much all the winter; yes, I know. 
 Very well, then, I make you very liberal oflFer and you will 
 say quick if you take it ; 'cause if you take it not, I go to 
 some others. But," looking at his large gold watch, " pfui! 
 I go; Tamson will tell you." 
 
 When the door closed on the Bailie all eyes turned on 
 Tamson. 
 
 " Weel," said he, leaning both his arms on the counter, 
 and looking at his fingers, " it's just this, boys. The Bailie 
 has some fine orders in — lang orders — for next winter. The 
 mill here canna fulfil them a' in good time, so he gi'es you 
 the offer o' the best o' them. Ye'll ha'e constant wark for 
 fine silver-grey and stripe at — but I'se get the paper o't.'' 
 
 He withdrew, and the weavers looked sideways at each 
 other in silence. This was not the complete surrender that 
 many of them had expected. Still, it meant steady work in 
 the best kinds of wincey, at how much a yard 1 Sixpence 
 
48 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 or sevenpence would be a vei-y low rate for line work. But 
 let them hear. Tamson re-entered. 
 
 " Yes," said he, scanning a paper in his hands, " at four- 
 pence a yard for stripe and threepence for fine silver-grey, 
 and " 
 
 " Bu-h-h ! " cried M'Cree, rising. " Threepence 1— three- 
 pence a yard for fine wincey ? Ye maun be daft, Hew ! " 
 
 " It's the Bailie's offer," said Tamson. " I've naething to 
 do wi't." 
 
 " We've never worked for less than fivepence," .said Lou- 
 doun, timidly, "at the warst o' times." 
 
 They looked at each other in wonder, rage, and disap- 
 pointment. Their feelings kindled at each other's angry 
 looks, and they sputtered simultaneously into flame. They 
 shook their heads, and murmured, and cried out " Na, na ! " 
 
 " By Jingo," exclaimed Steven, scattering fiery winks, 
 " for my coarse work, I s'pose it'll be naething a yerd, and 
 find my ain batter ! " * 
 
 " Now, boys,'' said Tamson, with dry and smooth plausi- 
 bility, " listen till a friendly word. It's no a bad offer ye've 
 got. If ye dinna tak' it, others will, and ye'll gang on, just 
 as ye ha'e been, wi' a wab here and a wab there — something 
 ae week and naething the next. Ye'd better think it ower. 
 I'll gi'e ye ten minutes;" and he took up his paper and 
 went out. 
 
 The weavers again looked at each other in silence. They 
 were all in the timid time of life, when body and mind are 
 alike inelastic, when a man is conscious he can never hope 
 to do other than he has been in the habit of doing. Young 
 men might defy the Bailie and steam both ; they could not. 
 What, then, should they say to the Bailie's offer ? The 
 great M'Cree put himself forward at this juncture, and ad- 
 vised that they should hold out for sevenpence a yard for 
 stripe and sixpence for silver-grey. It was all nonsense for 
 Hew and the Bailie to say they could get the work done by 
 others. They knew they could not, for it was notorious 
 that there were none in the north could do so fine work as 
 
 * Batter ia the dressing for the web. 
 
THE BAILIE'S OFFER. 49 
 
 the Ilkastane weavers. Nothing was said to his plea, and 
 he took it upon him to advance and speak in behalf of all. 
 The great man (who was blessed with a long body and short 
 legs, arrayed in a long, snufp-coloured coat with brass but- 
 tons, and in ducks of no colour to speak of) marched up to 
 the counter with a loud Bu-h-h, and leaning across, rapped 
 with his stick at the inner door. Tamson reappeared, and 
 M'Cree marched back into the middle of the room. He 
 drew out his large turkey-red cotton handkerchief, blew his 
 loud Roman nose, and spoke. 
 
 " Hew Tamson, I'm commissioned by my friends here 
 ahint me to deliver oor answer to the Bailie's offer. Oor 
 answer is, ' It winna do.' The weavers o' Ilkastane ha'e a 
 reppytation to keep up, and they canna tak' what ye offer. 
 It's a wonder the Bailie's no ashamed to off er t. Our terms 
 is sevenpence for stripe and saxpence for fine grey.'' 
 
 " An' the devil tak' the hin'most ! " said Steven, with a 
 fiery wink aside. 
 
 "Man, Saunders, ye're daft!" said Tamson. " Ye're a' 
 daft ! Ye'll never get they prices again in this world." 
 
 The obvious sincerity of his surprise alarmed the weavers, 
 and shook their resolution. 
 
 " By Jingo ! " exclaimed Steven. " I think we maun con- 
 sult the Maister first." 
 
 " I think that, too,'' said Loudoun. 
 
 It was Tamson's turn to be alarmed. Being an Ilkastane 
 man, he knew well who was meant. 
 
 " I dinna see the necessity," said M'Cree, who could not 
 brook being put aside. 
 
 " What do you want to ask onybody for ? " said Tamson. 
 " Arena ye free men ? " 
 
 He threw open the door behind him, and showed a pile 
 of webs, and heaps of trussed hanks of the finest wool weft 
 in many colours — grey (in great abundance), brown, black, 
 scarlet and gold. He knew something of his men. The 
 mere sight of the fine materials was enough to tempt a good 
 weaver to wish to set to work on any condition. 
 
 " Look at a' that bonny stuff ! " he said. 
 
 The men were all shrewd enough to perceive that Tam- 
 
50 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 son did not wish them to consult the Master, and therefore 
 they were the more unanimously bent on doing it. 
 
 "Ay," said Loudoun, "bonny stuff, but we'll see the 
 Maister first, and come back the morn." 
 
 " That's it," said Steven, with a rapid wink of decision, 
 " we'll come back the morn. Come on, boys ; " and he led 
 the way out and was followed docilely by all but M'Cree, 
 who obstinately " BiMd ! " for a second or two, wiped his 
 perspiring bald head with his great red handkerchief and 
 put on his hat. 
 
 " Ye dinna often come in to ha'e a crack wi' me noo, 
 Saunders," said Tamson. " Look in the night if ye can 
 spare the time." 
 
 " Bu-h-h ! I may. Hew — I may ; " and he marched out, 
 muttering, " Donnert idiots ! " 
 
 Within an hour the weavers had reassembled in the 
 long weaving shop beneath Hutcheon's quarters. Steven 
 ascended the stairs and requested Maister Hutcheon to come 
 down : the folk had something to say to him. 
 
 Hutcheon went down, and was surprised to see some 
 two-score men assembled about the looms. Stevens and 
 Loudoun between them contrived to set forth the whole 
 matter — how Tamson had requested them to go to the Har- 
 gate Mill, and what proposals had been made to them there. 
 
 "But," said Hutcheon, "what for did ye no tell me afore 
 ye gaed to the Mill ? " 
 
 "We didna want to disturb ye," said Steven. "We 
 kenned ye had a frien' come to ye." 
 
 " I'd have gone with ye to the Bailie, and had no deal- 
 ing with onybody but himsel'. Tamson ! A cat's-paw ! 
 Tamson's a traitor ! He's ane o' yoursel's just ; he kens a' 
 your ways, and a' your wants, and he shows the Bailie 
 whaur to tak' advantage o' ye ! If I were what I should be, 
 
 Tamson would ! But that's neither here nor there. Ye 
 
 want my advice. Ye'd better leave it altogether to me. If 
 the worst come to the worst, ye may be sure, lads, that ye 
 shanna want so long as I've onything, and I've a contriv- 
 ance — a whamleerie thing getting ready — that'll gi'e ye the 
 laugh o' Bailies and sic-like cattle. But, first, I'll see the 
 
THE BAILIE'S OFFER. 51 
 
 Bailie and mak' the best bargain I can for ye. Do ye agree 
 to that ? " 
 
 " Surely — surely," was heard on all sides. 
 
 " Bu-h-h ! " said M'Cree, who had just come in. " I spak' 
 for them, and insisted on saxpence for fine plain and seven- 
 pence for stripe. We ought to get that at the very least to 
 live decent." 
 
 " We ought to get," said Hutcheon, " twice as much as 
 that, as we used to ha'e ; but men like the Bailie that use 
 iron machines to do their work ha'e no more bowels than 
 their machines." 
 
 " By George ! " said an English voice. " Here's a fine 
 assembly ; and all honest, lean, and hungry Chartists, just 
 as I left them seven years and more ago, with their asthmas 
 and their consumptions, and their wives and their weans, I 
 suppose I " 
 
 " By Jingo ! It's O'Rhea ! " exclaimed Steven. 
 
 It was indeed O'Rhea, and O'Rhea a little drunk. 
 
 "Now, now," exclaimed Hutcheon, "this will not do. 
 Ye're mistaken, Steven. This is my friend Mr. Spence, frae 
 the south — ye understand — Mr. Spence, a quiet, douce body 
 that wants to rest him in Ilkastane a while. Dinna forget 
 that he's Mr. Spence, and that ye never saw him afore. 
 Come on wi' me, Mr. Spence. Ye can mak' friends with 
 our folk another day.'' 
 
 So saying, Hutcheon led him out and up stairs. 
 
 '^Bu-h-h!" said M'Cree, breaking the general silence. 
 " O'Rhea back ! What does that mean ? Weel, the Maister, 
 as ye a' ca' him, is a deeper ane than I thought." 
 
 " By the muckle Jingo ! " said Steven. " Ye forget, 
 M'Cree, that the gentleman's name is Spence." 
 
 That was just such a joke as the sad, dour weavers could 
 laugh at, and they laughed. 
 
 "Let's gang down to Libby's and ha'e a mutchkin o' 
 whisky,'' said Steven. 
 
 The assembly broke up. Some half dozen went with the 
 One-eyed to Libby's, M'Cree among them, fuming and 
 spluttering and boiling over with hopes of the revival of 
 Chartism. The great man saw himself once again the 
 
52 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 sonorous and Eoman-nosed demagogue, mouthing absurd 
 and mischievous twaddle to listless crowds, and flinging 
 about damp fireworks which everyone but himself knew 
 were damp. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE MASTER AND THE BAILIE. 
 
 HuTCHEON (having begged O'Rhea, for his own sake, not 
 to stir out, and having ensured that by turning the key upon 
 him) set off straightway to find the Bailie. He had no anxi- 
 ety about meeting the owner of Corbie Ha', proprietor of the 
 Hargate Mill, and ex-Provost of Inverdoon, for he was go- 
 ing to ask nothing for himself, and he never thought of 
 comparing himself with such a creature as a bailie, a man 
 who was in sympathy with iron machines, and who lived 
 on the lives of men and women, and boys and girls. With- 
 out at all insisting on it to himself, he had the secure con- 
 sciousness of having behind him a long line of ancestors, 
 who had been rulers of men and fathers of their folk, and 
 he had only the serene, ungrudging desire to be as they had 
 been. That was no new feeling in him. It had grown 
 steadily since the departure of his brother. Had Ilkastane 
 been a prosperous place, and had the folk had less need of 
 one to whom they could constantly look for advice and 
 help, he might have never come to assume the position 
 he held. But they needed him, and his inherited instincts 
 and traditions aiding, he gave them himself and all that 
 he had. He was too simple of heart and calm of soul 
 to have ever thought of the Bailie as either less or more 
 than himself, to have ever considered him at all, if it had 
 not been that the Bailie's selfish purpose collided with his 
 high and strong design. He knew he could not (as he 
 might have done had he lived two centuries earlier) order 
 the man away with his machines and his mill, and his only 
 
THE MASTER AND THE BAILIE. 53 
 
 feeling toward him was a consuming wrath that he should 
 try to grind the faces of the Ilkastane folk — Hutcheon's own 
 people — and embitter their lives. So, with his plaid wrapped 
 close about him and his broad Scots bonnet pulled over his 
 knitted brows, he strode along in well-contained indignation. 
 
 Before he reached the mill an incident occurred which 
 added to his anger. The dinner hour (two o'clock) had 
 struck, and the mill poured out its hands. Many of them 
 Hutcheon met — some lads and many lasses. The lasses had 
 bright shawls about their shoulders, and sometimes over their 
 heads, which were powdered with the dust and fluJBP of the 
 yarn. There was a bold freedom in their look and gait 
 which struck Hutcheon painfully ; he was old enough to 
 remember how modest and sonsy the Ilkastane lasses looked 
 before the mill tempted them away from home and threw 
 them into the company of the rough queans from the town. 
 The lasses were straggling all over the way, talking and 
 laughing loudly, and Hutcheon stood aside to let them go 
 by, so that only a few noted his presence and moderated 
 their behaviour. 
 
 " That's him,'' said one. " The young Bailie, of course. 
 Wha other ? " 
 
 Hutcheon noted upon whom their eyes were turned ; a 
 handsome young man, well dressed, erect of bearing, and 
 with a light, springy step. 
 
 " He's a bonny lad," said another. 
 
 "Oh, dinna ye think o' him, Jean," said the first; "he's 
 ta'en his wale* already, and a bonny wale she is." 
 
 " Dinna blush, Elsie," said a third. 
 
 " See. he's gi'en her that ring," said the first, upon which 
 Elsie hid her hand under her shawl. 
 
 "He's a bonny lad, Elsie," repeated the second; "I wish 
 I was you." 
 
 " Will he mak' a leddy o'-her ? " 
 
 " Na, catch him ! Just a light-a-love ! " 
 
 At these and other thoughtless and cruel remarks Elsie 
 burst into tears. 
 
 * Choice. 
 
54 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 " Ow, she's greetin' ! " cried one. 
 
 " Aha, my lass," cried another, " ye may hain * your tears, 
 for ye may need them yet." 
 
 " For shame, my dawties ! " said Hutcheon, walking- in 
 among them. " For shame ! Dinna miscall the lassie that 
 gate, and gar her greet ! Ah, fy ! " Then turning to Elsie, 
 he said, " Dinna heed them, Elsie lass ! They dinna mean 
 it ; it's just the deevilment the mill puts into them." 
 
 The lasses with a constrained laugh ceased their flouts 
 and jeers, and went on their way, and Hutcheon went on 
 his. He did not consider whether or not it was likely that 
 the Bailie would be at the mill in the dinner hour, but he 
 walked right on to the mill, passed the porter's lodge (he 
 had such an air of dignity and authority that no one ques- 
 tioned him), crossed the quadrangle with its pond of warm 
 water, in which it was the Bailie's fancy to keep gold and 
 silver fish, and went to a door marked " Office^ He en- 
 tered, and a boy who was eating his dinner from the interior 
 of his desk came forward. 
 
 " Is Bailie Lippen in ? " asked Hutcheon. 
 
 " Wha shall I say wants him ? " asked the boy. 
 
 " The Maister of Hutcheon," was the answer. " Hutcheon 
 of Hutcheon." 
 
 Hutcheon had no sense of being anachronistic in saying 
 that, no consciousness of uttering a vain thing. The boy 
 was as serious as he, and looked at him steadily in the honest 
 endeavour to lay hold of and bear to the Bailie the unusual 
 combination of names. He tapped at an inner door, and 
 entered and said what he had to say. 
 
 " Wiio ? " cried the Bailie. 
 
 The boy repeated the names with some uncertainty and 
 timidity. The Bailie rose and appeared at the door. He 
 seemed inclined to overflow with unintelligible impatient 
 speech, but at sight of the tall, serious, and imposing figure 
 he paused. 
 
 "Ah," said he, "how-de-do,'' and waited. 
 
 " I presume," said Hutcheon, " ye're Bailie Lippen ? " 
 
 * Save. 
 
THE MASTER AND THE BAILIE. 55 
 
 "Lepine,'' said thje Bailie, with a little French bow. 
 " Yes ; I am." 
 
 " I'd like a private word with ye, Bailie, if ye can make 
 it convenient." 
 
 " Who have I the honour ? The boy did not speak well 
 the name." 
 
 " Hutcheon of Hutcheon ; or, if ye prefer it, the Maister 
 of Hutcheon." 
 
 " Oh," said the Bailie. He did not yet understand the 
 terms in which Hutcheon was describing himself ; yet he 
 could not but feel a certain respectful humility in presence 
 of that tall and serious person. " Will you enter, sir ? " 
 
 He raised the flap of the counter, and bowed as Hutcheon 
 passed through. When they were in the inner office, the 
 Bailie, still wondering, set a chair, and Hutcheon took off 
 his broad bonnet and sat down. He seemed to fill the little 
 office with his height of body and length of limb. The 
 Bailie glanced at him keenly, and it was clear that the Bailie 
 did not like his eye nor his nose. 
 
 " I'm come to you. Bailie, on the part o' the hand-loom 
 weavers o' Ilkastane that have been here the day." 
 
 " Ah," said the Bailie with a crocodile snap of his jaw ; 
 he now began to feel on ground lie was sure of. " I see." 
 
 He seemed to signify by his look that he wondered why 
 Hutcheon of Hutcheon, or the Master of Hutcheon, should 
 concern himself about them. 
 
 "They're my own folk,'' said Hutcheon, answering the 
 look ; " their forebears have followed my unf ort'nate family 
 frae father to son in peace and in war for hundreds o' years. 
 There's not very much o' either of us now, but I stand by 
 them when they have need o' me." 
 
 The Bailie bowed again, and looked a little worried ; he 
 did not yet quite understand. 
 
 "Now, atween gentlemen, Bailie, bargaining and heck- 
 ling is a mean and damnable business. The love of money 
 — as the Scripture says — is the root of all evil. I ken noth- 
 ing about money, the Lord be thankit! so I canna try to 
 bargain wi' ye, and I bring ye no evil. Ye come from a 
 country. Bailie, I believe, whaur honour counts first in 
 
56 THE KING OF AXDAMAX. 
 
 a'thing. Now, a gentleman is in honour bound to give his 
 own folk help though it should be from his last bawbee, and 
 a Frenchman is in honour bound no to mak" himself feel 
 mean and damnable by taking from poor folk what thev 
 cannot afford to give." 
 
 "But, yes,' said the Bailie, " it is true. Live and permit 
 to live is very good thing to say." 
 
 •• It is, Bailie," said Hutcheon, " but ye dinna carry out 
 what ye believe. Ye have offered the folk work at a price 
 that's little better than starvation for them." 
 
 •• Ah, now," said the Bailie, •' you speak business. I offer 
 the weavers as much as I can ; there will be for me very 
 little profit, sir. I have quote the wincey at so much for the 
 merchants." 
 
 " Then, Bailie," said Hutcheon, " ye must raise your price 
 to the merchant.s. for the folk must have a better price than 
 ye offered them." 
 
 " But I cannot," said the Bailie, growing short of temper. 
 " You do not understand, sir. There is to compete with the 
 steam -looms." 
 
 " I understand ye perfectly. Bailie. And that's the 
 damnable thing about it. Ye say ye canna raise the price 
 because o' the steam-looms ; but wha set the steam-looms 
 to weave wincey, Bailie ? "Was it the weavers ? They 
 didna want your steam-looms ; nobody wanted your steam- 
 looms — nobody but yourself. Bailie. Ye took the weavers' 
 work away, and gave it to your looms, and ye sent such 
 loads o' thin, poor stuff to the merchants, that the price gaed 
 down like a weather-glass ; and no"w ye offer the work back 
 to the weavers, cause your looms canna do it well, and ye 
 say, ' Ye maun tak' a small, small price because the trade 
 has been brought low. It's my fau't, but ye must bear it.' I 
 call that. Bailie, dishonourable and damnable." 
 
 That show of argument perplexed and ■worried the Bailie. 
 He was silent for a little while. 
 
 "You know, sir,'' he said at leng-th, "other mills have 
 looms as mine, and other weavers ■will work at the prices 
 the Ilkastane weavers do not like." 
 
 " That's true, no doubt. Bailie ; but its ^^-i' you my folk 
 
THE MASTER AND THE BAILIE. 57 
 
 ha'e had to do, and it's them ye've preferred to bargain 
 wi'." 
 
 " Well, sir," said the Bailie, " we will not discuss more. 
 Things is done, and they cannot be undone. Have you a 
 proposal, sir ? " 
 
 " You have offered. Bailie, fourpence per stripe and 
 threepence for fine plain ; you should double the figures, 
 Bailie." 
 
 " Double ? It is impossible," said the Bailie. " When I 
 tell you that the price to the merchants allow me not more 
 than one penny 1 I will make you the account ! " 
 
 " Dinna fash, Bailie," said Hutcheon. " I tak' your word 
 for't. But ye must raise your price to them." 
 
 " But I cannot. I have promise. I can try to make the 
 orders cancelled, or to get other weavers to weave them, 
 but I cannot raise the price." 
 
 Hutcheon meditated and grasped his beard ; he believed 
 the Bailie, but yet it was the Bailie's own fault that prices 
 were so low. He felt he ought to stick to the high figures ; 
 yet if he held out for them the Bailie might decide to leave 
 the work undone, or to try inferior and cheaper weavers. 
 
 " I tell you what, Bailie," said he ; " I'll tak' flvepence 
 and fourpence for them. If ye can mak' small profit out o' 
 that ye needna mind this time, for ye ha'e made profits 
 enow afore this." 
 
 The Bailie pursed his mouth and stared ; but Hutcheon's 
 eye held him humble, and his nose bore him down. 
 
 " I will think of it," said the Bailie, " and I will send 
 word to the weavers by Tamson." 
 
 " Do nothing o' the kind, Bailie. I've charged mysel' 
 wi' this business, and I'll ha'e no traffic wi' Tamson. There 
 shall nobody come atween you and the weavers but mysel' ; 
 so ye'd better mak' up your mind now. See, here's a bit o' 
 paper," said he, taking a sheet from the rack on the table 
 and putting it on the desk before the Bailie. " Just scart a 
 word or twa, to the effect that ye mak' the figures fivepence 
 and fourpence, and the folk'll come for their wabs the morn. 
 Here's a fine-nibbit pen. Bailie." 
 
 The Bailie frowned and looked worried, but he did as he 
 5 
 
58 
 
 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 was asked ; he could do no less under that steady eye quite 
 certain of itself, that overbearing nose, and that imposing 
 figure. He wrote rapidly for a second or two, and then he 
 paused to ask : 
 
 " How write you ' Maister ' ? " 
 
 " Write it as ye will, Bailie, for a bit paper like that." 
 So the Bailie spelled the word " Mester," and signed the 
 paper and handed it over to Hutcheon. And Hutcheon, 
 looking at it, said, " I ha'e to vrish ye a good day, Bailie," 
 put on his bonnet and strode out. 
 
 A little later George Lepine entered the office, and was 
 surprised to see his father marching up and down in a 
 fume. 
 
 " What's the matter, father ? " he asked. 
 
 " What the ' matter ? I have been dam-fool ! I have 
 raise the price to the miserable weavers, and set it on paper, 
 and sign with my name ! Why ? I do not know ! It is 
 only that a great monsieur— grand, gros .'—come in and 
 say, ' Bailie, you are gentleman, you are Frenchman ! You 
 must do it!' And I do it, and I know not why at all ! 
 Mon Dieu ! " 
 
 " Who was the gentleman ? " asked George. 
 
 " He call him the Monsieur of Utcheon." 
 
 " Ah," said George, " ' The Maister.' " 
 
 " Oui, yes! A great 'mester,' with an eye and a nose! 
 Ah, oui, a nose ! I think it was the nose that put me out 
 of myself ! I have not seen such nose since I was boy in 
 France ! The seigneur of the chateau near where I live had 
 such nose — a terrible nose ! A nose that make you shake ! 
 A nose that make you fear ! And an eye 1 Parhleu, an 
 eye ! " So he ran on, as he marched up and down gesticulat- 
 ing. He stopped and looked at George in suspicion. 
 " You know him ? " he asked. 
 
 "I don't know him," answered George, "but I have 
 heard of him as ' the Maister,' that's all." 
 
 " The Maister of Utcheon, he says, Utcheon of Utcheon." 
 
 " Did he say that ? " demanded George. " But that's a 
 title, something like count. There was a Master of 
 Hutcheon out fighting in the last Stuart Rebellion," 
 
CONSPIRACY. 59 
 
 " That is him ! " exclaimed the Bailie. " I knew he was 
 the man what fight." 
 
 George explained that the fighting he referred to was 
 done more than a hundred years before. 
 
 " It is equal," said the Bailie. " But Tamson, perhaps he 
 know." 
 
 Tamson was called, and told all he had heard, describ- 
 ing, somewhat grudgingly, Hutcheon's peculiar position in 
 Ilkastane. 
 
 " Ah, that is him," said the Bailie. " Did I not say he 
 was of the old noblesse ? I feel it in me, for I see many 
 of him before ! It is droll." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 CONSPIRACY. 
 
 HuTCHKON felt it was not a triumphant arrangement he 
 had to announce to his folk, but he showed them it was the 
 best that could have been made under the circumstance, 
 and he cheered them by the promise of a speedy application 
 of the invention — the " Whamleerie " — he had on hand for 
 quickeding the production of striped stuff. They loyally 
 accepted his assurances, all but M'Cree, who " bu-h-hd" and 
 glowered, and said there was nobody knew the Bailie as he 
 did, and that thfey might depend on't the Bailie would make 
 a large profit out of them. The Master could have found it 
 in him to be severe with the preposterous old demagogue, 
 but there were reasons (which have been touched on before) 
 why he felt he must be always patient and tender with him, 
 and so he held his tongue. That was a pity, for M'Cree 
 only puffed himself up with the vain belief that Hutcheon 
 was afraid of him. 
 
 So that evening after dark, Hutcheon being withdrawn 
 in his garrets over the weaving-shop, M'Cree came forth 
 
60 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 in a fine state of pretentious choler to pour his offence out 
 to Tamson. He lingered in the close a little and listened 
 to the sawing and hammering that came from Hutcheon's 
 rooms, and then he departed, snorting, " Whamleerie ! He 
 needna try to put a£f his Whamleeries on me ! " 
 
 Tamson and Tamson's strapping wife received him gra- 
 ciously. Tamson was a big red man with a smooth-shaven 
 face, and a smooth-shaven manner, which a suspicious per- 
 son would have found crafty and dangerous. But M'Cree 
 was always so occupied with his own importance that he 
 had no room for suspicion of anyone who deferred to him at 
 all. Tamson put the whisky on the table, saying, " It's auld 
 peat-reekit," and Tamson's wife brought out her oat-cakes 
 and set the kettle on the fire, and M'Cree " buh'd " and ex- 
 panded with satisfied pride, thinking that all was done out 
 of compliment to his greatness. That impression was aided 
 by Tamson's opening apology. 
 
 " I hope, Saunders," said he, '" ye took nae notice o' my 
 manner i' the forenoon. Ye maun aye seem to be hard in 
 business. There I'm the Bailie's tenter and maun do what 
 pleases him ; here I'm mysel' and I do as I will," and he 
 gripped Saunders's elbow in the closest, friendliest fash- 
 ion. 
 
 " Ye had your turn. Hew, and I had mine, so say nae 
 mair about it — say nae mair." 
 
 While Tamson's wife put the younger children away for 
 the night in the great box bed in the wall (put them away 
 literally, for when they were in bed she drew the sliding 
 panels, leaving only a chink for air), they gossiped about 
 things indifferent, and drank their toddy, and M'Cree's 
 heart grew hot within him and all his grievances boiled 
 up. It was an old grievance that the Bailie had never 
 asked him to be a tenter or overseer at the mill, and in his 
 exalted condition he gave it speech. 
 
 "Nae offence to you, Hew," said he, "but he might ha' 
 put the job in my way. I dinna think I would ha' ta'en it 
 for I ha'e aye been my ain master, and I maun aye be 
 free to speak out the truth that's in me." 
 
 " To be sure, Saunders," said Tamson in his smoothest 
 
CONSPIRACY. 61 
 
 and most soothing tone. "And ye brought him north, 
 didna ye?" 
 
 " Brought him north to Inverdoon— wha other ? — and got 
 him into work, and was the making o' him, as ye may say. 
 And this is his gratitude ! When we come across ane 
 another i' the street, it's just, 'Well, M'Cree?' or some 
 French jingle-jangle, and never 'Can I do onything for 
 you, Saunders ? ' De'il a bit o't ! " 
 
 " Never ye mind, Saunders," said Tamson's wife, " that's 
 aye the way o' the world. The rale- good men aye come 
 warst aff." 
 
 " That's it, Saunders," said Tamson. " But what think ye 
 o' the Maister ? Dinna ye think he's getting just a wee bit 
 ower ready to put his spoke in? " 
 
 " A wee bit 1 " cried M'Cree. " Gi'e him an inch and he 
 tak's an ell. It's mair than I can stand. Ane o' they days 
 he'll anger me to siccan a pitch that I'll tell him sae. He 
 lets naething go by him ; and soon it'll be that a cat canna 
 mew without his wanting to ken what for ! " 
 
 " But how is't," asked Tamsou, " that the lads put up wi' 
 it a'?" 
 
 " 'Cause they're slaves, min 1 He lends a hand to wind 
 their wabs, he twists their wabs, and he does other orra 
 things for them, a' for naething." (M'Cree did not confess 
 that the Master performed these services for him also ; but 
 Tamson knew that he did.) "And what d'ye think he's 
 after now? He's got a contrivance on hand — a'Wham- 
 leerie,' he ca's it — to fit on to the lay to manage stripes 
 quicker ! He's gaun to gi'e them that ! " 
 
 " Ye dinna mean it ! ". exclaimed Tamson, his red, pig- 
 gish eyes now all attention. 
 
 " But I do I " said M'Cree. " Bu-h-h ! Let him offer to 
 fit me wi' ane o' the trash, I'll address him ! " 
 
 " But what think ye is his objeck in a' that? " asked 
 Tamson. " It canna be Chartism again ; he niver had 
 muckle to do wi't, and he doesna believe in it now." 
 
 "Doesna he?" 
 
 " He says so." 
 
 " If ve believe a' ve liear. Hew. said M'Cree, with a 
 
62 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 frown of mystery and a pursing of the mouth, " ye may eat 
 a' ye see. Maister Hutcheon is a deeper ane than ye think ; 
 he was aye deep, and the langer he lives the deeper he 
 grows. I could tell ye something; but no, I maunna — I 
 maunna ! " 
 
 "Come, Saunders," said Tamson's wife, " ye're amang 
 friends ; we'll lift naething we hear.'' 
 
 "Na, gudewife, I canna. It wouldna be right. But, 
 Lord ! ye'd never guess it ! I'd ha' never guessed it mysel' 
 if I hadna seen it." 
 
 " Ye ha'ena fed the swine yet, ha'e ye, Hew? " said Tam- 
 son's wife aside, as if she did not care a jot whether or not 
 M'Cree disclosed the secret he was bursting with. 
 
 " Bu-h-h ! " said M'Cree. " What would ye say to ane o' 
 the banished Chartists coming back? " 
 
 " No ! " exclaimed Tamson. " No his brither George ? " 
 
 " Na ; nae him — the villain 1 " 
 
 " It maun be O'Rhea ! " 
 
 " The verra man," said M'Cree. 
 
 " It's no possible ! " 
 
 " But it's sure as death ! I saw him wi' my ain een the 
 day ! I kenna what he's come for ; I was never consulted 
 about his coming. But what should he come for but to get 
 the Cause up again ? " 
 
 " Just that ! " said Tamson. '' And whaur is he ? " 
 
 "I' the house wi' Maister Hutcheon. Now ye winna 
 speak o't ? " 
 
 " Hoot, Saunders," said Tamson's wife, " ye ken we dinna 
 lift things.'' 
 
 "Weel," said Tamson, "there'll be some fine can- 
 trips in a jiflfey. But I maun see to the swine, Saunders. 
 Just bide ye still and ha'e a crack wi' the wife for a 
 whiley.'' 
 
 Tamson rose and went out. He did not visit the swine, 
 however, but strode off as hard as he could go down the 
 loan and up the burnside. Once in that lonely way he did 
 not scruple to run — run till he reached the gate of Corbie 
 Ha'. He was resolved to tell the Bailie all he had learned 
 both about the "Whamleerie " of the Master, and about the 
 
CONSPIRACY. 63 
 
 Master's guest ; for though his wife had promised secrecy, 
 he had not. 
 
 Meanwhile Hutcheon was working on his invention as 
 fast as saw and hammer and plane would go. The Master 
 was a man of his wits, and he had no pride about what he 
 turned them to. Moreover, he had all the delight of the 
 simple, natural man in making and mending, in the strength 
 of his hands and the finesse of his fingers. For the benefit 
 of his folk (and for something to do) he had taught himself 
 carpentry, and the cleaning and repairing of clocks and 
 watches, as the multitudinous and distracted ticking from 
 the walls abundantly testified. He was at present, however, 
 engrossed with the " Whamleerie." He had a small, com- 
 plete model on the bench before him, which O'Rhea (who 
 was at a loose end) took up to look at and to finger. Since 
 not only the fortunes of the weavers, but also the progress 
 of this story much depend on the "Whamleerie," it had 
 better be here described. 
 
 It was not a complicated or amazing contrivance ; indeed, 
 like naany a puzzle in science and art, it was so simple the 
 wonder is that it had not been thought of long before. 
 Those who have ever seen a loom need only to be reminded 
 that the " lay " is that horizontal arrangement which, swing- 
 ing on two uprights, beats the weft into the web. The two 
 layers of web pass over the " bed " of the lay, which is a 
 smooth, sloped groove for the shuttle to run in to and fro. 
 carrying the thread with each flight through the web. In 
 weaving striped fabrics, as many shuttles, of course, are 
 needed as there are colours; and the weaver's slow and 
 clumsy habit was to remove each shuttle from the lay when 
 it had performed its turn, and to replace it when its turn 
 came round again. The problem for Hutcheon was how to 
 keep in the lay at once as many shuttles as were needed, 
 and he had solved it thus :— One end of the lay being cut 
 partly away, a kind of box was fitted on, somewhat longer 
 and wider than a shuttle, and provided with several equi- 
 distant . shelves or storeys. The box moved up and down 
 on two iron pins fastened to its back ; it was raised by a 
 branched cord which rose to the upper part of the lay and 
 
54 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 passed over pulleys down to the hand with which the weaver 
 worked his lay, and it descended with its own weight. Each 
 shelf could be provided with a shuttle bearing different 
 coloured weft, and each could be raised or lowered at will to 
 the level of the bed of the lay, so that the shuttle it con- 
 tained could be shot through the warp as it was needed. 
 That, in brief, is the description of the appearance and 
 operation of the Master's " Whamleerie," as he showed them 
 to O'Rhea. 
 
 " You ought to take out a patent for it," said O'Rhea. 
 
 " A patent ? " said Hutcheon. " What for 2 " 
 
 "Oh," said O'Ehea, "you could make a pile of money 
 out of it, my boy." 
 
 " I ha'e no wish to make money out of it," said Hutcheon ; 
 "I'm but just makin't to ease the work o' the weavers." 
 
 " Never sneer at money. It has great power." 
 
 "Ower muckle, Fergus — ower muckle. But money's 
 useful. It would tak' a great deal, though, to buy a patent, 
 I've heard." 
 
 " Oh," said O'Rhea, " two or three hundred pound ; and," 
 he continued, with a sparkle of interest in his eye, " perhaps 
 you can't afford that." 
 
 " I canna. I've no even fifty to spare." 
 
 "Then," said O'Rhea, "you must let a patent alone. 
 George, I suppose, has never paid you back the sum he got 
 from you to travel with ? " 
 
 " How could he, man," said Hutcheon, " when I've never 
 heard from him ? " 
 
 " Of course. Ah, but you will hear — and hear to some 
 purpose, I believe.'' 
 
 " It's time," said Hutcheon, " that the laddie were coming 
 in ; he aye comes to me in the evening to learn his bit 
 lessons for the school." 
 
 That seemed an. irrelevant thing to say, but O'Rhea 
 quickly divined what was in Hutcheon's thought — how it 
 was that the mention of George should make him think 
 of Kitty's boy. O'Rhea had been until then uncertain 
 whether he or George was suspected of being the boy's 
 father ; now he had something like assurance that George 
 
CONSPIRACY. 65 
 
 was suspected. But he was curious to know what Kitty 
 might have said. 
 
 " You mean the boy Hamish ? — Kitty "s boy ? How is 
 Kitty, by the way ? " 
 
 " Havena I told ye ? Kitty — poor lass ! — kens nothing 
 and nobody about her, and has kenned nothing since the 
 night George and you went awa'. She's clean daft, and 
 she just likes to sit a' her lone in her garret, winding and 
 winding her weft, and making her wheel birr and boom. 
 Sometimes she laughs, but maist often she sighs, and soughs, 
 and greets." 
 
 " Grood G — d ! " exclaimed O'Rhea, sitting down with 
 pale face and trembling hands. 
 
 " Do you feel ill, Fergus ? " asked Hutcheon with con- 
 cern. 
 
 " It's this d — d ague, and what you've just told me. It's 
 awful 1 Poor Kitty ! Poor thing ! " 
 
 " George shall ken about it," said Hutcheon with a touch 
 of severity, " as soon as I hear whaur he is ; and in the 
 meantime I do what I can and look after the laddie. A 
 clever, strong, weel-faur'd laddie he is.'' 
 
 " You're a good fellow, Hutcheon," said O'Rhea fervently, 
 putting his hand on Hutcheon's, " and — it should never be 
 forgotten.'' 
 
 There was a sound of a step on the stairs, and there came 
 a tap at the door, and Hamish entered. He went up to 
 Hutcheon, holding out a folded note. 
 
 "A man gi'ed it me; I dinna ken the man, but I met 
 him i' the close.'' 
 
 "For me?" said Hutcheon, looking at its address. He 
 read it — there were but few words — and handed it to 
 O'Rhea. " It's about you." 
 
 Thus ran the note, in pencil : 
 
 " Someone has been to-night to inform Bailie Lepine that 
 a noted Chartist, Fergus O'Rhea, is lodged in your house. 
 It is for you or for your guest to judge what harm may come 
 of that information. A Well-Wisher." 
 
66 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 HOW o'rhea made friends with the bailie. 
 
 " What will ye do ? " asked Hutcheon. " There may be 
 no danger, but it's weel to be on the safe side." 
 
 " I'll beard the lion in his den," said O'Ehea, rising and 
 tramping up and down. The presence of danger had a 
 tonic effect on him. " I'll go to the Bailie and make friends 
 with him. Let's see ; he's a Frenchman, isn't he, and was 
 in Napoleon's wars ? I'll have him before he can stir." 
 
 " Ye're no gaun straight off ? " asked Hutcheon. 
 
 " To be sure I am. Where's my hat ? " 
 
 "Now, ca' canny, Fergus. The Bailie, I've heard, has 
 his denner at seven o'clock. I daursay wi' a' his dishes and 
 his wine he's no through afore eight. Better bide a wee, 
 and let him get through the thick o't. To mak' a man like 
 the Bailie break off his denner would do ye no good." 
 
 "By George! ye're right, Hutcheon," said O'Ehea. "I 
 wish I had a cautious head like you." 
 
 " It's bleak and bitter hard for me to be cautious, I can 
 tell ye, Fergus. But there's a time to be cool and cautious, 
 and there's a time to be hot and headstrong ; and this is the 
 time to be cautious." 
 
 O'Ehea considered Hutclieon a moment with critical 
 eyes. Was that quiet, patient, strong man ever likely to 
 break out in some unexpected fashion ? And had he really 
 some great scheme on hand of which his assertion of him- 
 self as the Master of Hutcheon was but the flourish or deco- 
 ration? 
 
 " I should not like to have you for an enemy, Hutcheon," 
 was all he said. 
 
 " Ye needna, Fergus," said Hutcheon ; " I'm no quarrel- 
 some." 
 
 And all the while the boy Hamish was listening with 
 both his ears and looking with both his eyes, while 
 Hutcheon worked with chisel and plane on the "Wham- 
 leerie." O'Rhea laid a kindly lingering hand on the yellow 
 
HOW O'RHBA MADE FEIENDS WITH THE BAILIE. 67 
 
 head (his own son's head, as he, but no other, knew), and 
 sat down with the boy between his knees. He stroked his 
 hair, which had the same erect obstinacy as his own, and 
 hugged him, and questioned him lightly about his school- 
 learning, being keen to detect and delight in touches of man- 
 ner and turns of temper that seemed akin to his own. 
 
 "What was it, Hamish," asked Hutcheon, "that ye an- 
 swered when ye knocked at the door and 1 speered ' Wha's 
 there 1 ' " 
 
 " I said ' It's me,' " said Hamish. 
 
 " But isna that wrang, Hamish, my man ? " said Hutch- 
 eon. " Doesna the gremmar bid ye say ' I ' ? ^ It is I; be 
 not afraid.' Isna that what the gremmar says ? " 
 
 " But I dinna like to say ' I,'" said Hamish. 
 
 " But, Hamish, my mannie, ' be not afraid.' If it's right 
 to say ' I ' — and the gremmar surely kens a' about it — ye 
 should say ' I.' " 
 
 " I see 1 " exclaimed Hamish in glee, breaking away from 
 O'Rhea. 
 
 Both the men looked at the boy and considered his trem- 
 bling eagerness. 
 
 " Now, what do you see ? " asked Hutcheon. 
 
 " I see the way to work the ' Whamleerie,' " he answered. 
 
 Hutcheon had fitted his contrivance to an old lay that 
 leaned against his bench, had arranged his cord and pulleys, 
 and with his thumb on the catch of the lay had been mak- 
 ing the thing click up and down and driving the shuttles to 
 and fro. 
 
 " I see it ! " repeated the boy. " Ye pull it up and down 
 wi' the thumb o' that hand on the lay. The string gaes up 
 there, and comes down here to the top o' the ' Whamleerie.' 
 Let me do't ! " 
 
 " Ye're a clever loon," said Hutcheon, " but I think ye'd 
 better wait till I'm farther on ; ye might break something." 
 
 The boy was disappointed, and stood frowning, while 
 O'Ehea looked on with a heavy smile of self-satisfaction. 
 It was time, however, to go to the Bailie's ; so O'Rhea rose, 
 and begged Hutcheon to let Hamish go with him to point 
 out the way. 
 
68 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 In ten minutes they were at Corbie Ha'. They pushed 
 open a side-gate (under a lamp and the stare of a stone 
 leopard looking down from the gate-pillar), walked over the 
 gravel sweep, which was somewhat overgrown with grass 
 that mulQed the footsteps, and then O'Rhea sounded a peal 
 with knocker and bell that woke to clamour the rooks in 
 the old flrs, and made little Hamish wonder how his 
 companion could be so bold. The big hall-door opened in 
 haste and the depressed Jaques appeared in a fluster. O'Ehea 
 said he desired to see Bailie Lepine on most important busi- 
 ness, and he and Hamish were at once shown into a room 
 on the ground floor, which was furnished very much after 
 the fashion of the " apartment " of a poor French bachelor. 
 There was a small bed in a recess ; the polished floor was 
 bare of carpet or rug, except by the fire and by the bed. 
 
 "The Bailie's snuggery, I suppose," said O'Rhea. "I 
 shouldn't mind lodging here.'' 
 
 He glanced hurriedly round the room. There were sev- 
 eral closet and cupboard doors ; there was a dressing-table 
 furnished with the usual articles of the male toilet ; there 
 was an ample table cumbered with papers and French books ; 
 and a good fire was burning in the grate — a distinctively 
 Scottish character being imparted to it by the block of 
 smouldering peat on top. 
 
 The Bailie entered, smoking a cigar. He stopped short 
 on seeing a big man — a stranger — with red hair and red 
 beard turning grey. 
 
 "ilf'siew," saidhe with a bow, "you have something to 
 say ? " 
 
 " Monsieur le Bailli," began O'Rhea in tolerably fluent 
 French, " I have come to ask you to take me under your 
 protection." 
 
 " Ah," exclaimed the Bailie, " you speak French. Asseyez- 
 
 VOMS." 
 
 O'Rhea sat down and hoped that in a little while the 
 Bailie would offer him a cigar. 
 
 " Continuez, monsieur,'" said the Bailie. 
 
 "I return from wandering all through the world," re- 
 sumed O'Rhea, in his best available French. " I am tired, 
 
HOW O'RHEA MADE FRIENDS WITH THE BAILIE. 69 
 
 ill, and I wish to rest. But eight years ago I was revolu- 
 tionary — I was Chartist — and I believe a warrant is still in 
 existence for my arrest." 
 
 " Ah, yes," said the Bailie, in French, " then you name 
 yourself O'Ehea ? " 
 
 " I am Fergus O'Rhea." 
 
 " I have heard — yes, I have heard this very evening that 
 you are come." 
 
 " Truly ? " said O'Rhea, in well-feigned astonishment. 
 " Who has been able to tell you ? " 
 
 " Ah," said the Bailie, " I cannot tell. But evidently my 
 information is true." 
 
 " Certainly, a man like you. Monsieur le Bailli, has 
 many sources of information. I do not demand to know 
 them. I only pray that the information which you have re- 
 ceived you hold to yourself." 
 
 " But," said the Bailie, " it is necessary that I acquit me 
 of my duty as magistrate. It is my duty " 
 
 " Duty, Monsieur le Bailli, is a stupid word to frighten 
 stupid people ; and it always comes to make you do some- 
 thing you do not wish to do." 
 
 " Yes ; it is true that which you say, monsieur." 
 
 "It is necessary that a man of your wisdom and wit. 
 Monsieur le Bailli, look at the business himself and not 
 take that which one says of duty. I am that which I have 
 said — a man tired who wishes to rest. I am not a danger- 
 ous man." 
 
 "And, excuse me, you do not wish to revive youi- 
 Chartism ? " 
 
 " To revive Chartism ? Chartism is dead as the cause of 
 the Stuarts." 
 
 "Ah, oui. The Stuarts— your friend, the Monsieur of 
 Utcheon, fight for the Stuarts ? No ? " 
 
 " His ancestor, the Master of Hutcheon," said O'Rhea, 
 " fought for the Stuarts, but not he." 
 
 " It is equal," said the Bailie. " He is of those drolls who 
 fight for lost regimes. Me, I was not made by the Creator 
 for to fight me ; I was all made for affairs, all. But I pay 
 my homages to the ancient noblesse who fight and make 
 
70 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 themselves poor for old rSgimes. It is noble ! it is magnifi- 
 cent ! It makes the romantic.'' 
 
 O'Ehea saw how the Bailie was regarding Hutcheon, and 
 he resolved to make the most of it. 
 
 " Oh, yes," said he, " my friend, the Master of Hutcheon, 
 is of the old noblesse of this country, though he is so poor 
 now." 
 
 " But it is strange," said the Bailie, " that he is for Chart- 
 ism too — he." 
 
 "He for Chartism? My dear Monsieur le Bailli, there 
 is no person for Chartism now. My friend, the Master of 
 Hutcheon, is for other things. He is for to regain his 
 patrimony, for to take his true place among the noblesse 
 and in the government of his country. The Master of 
 Hutcheon, Monsieur le Bailli, will soon be rich and 
 great." 
 
 " Ah, rich and great, truly ? " 
 
 '' But that is his secret," said O'Rhea, " and I tell it you. 
 Monsieur le Bailli, because I know you are discreet and 
 silent, and because I show you that my friend and me, we 
 have other things than Chartism to think of." 
 
 "Monsieur O'Rhea," said the Bailie, after he had cracked 
 all his fingers and kept his brows knitted in thought, "I 
 agree. You have reason. I assure me that it is not my duty 
 as magistrate to denounce you as Chartist. I am silent — 
 silent as the priest. But when you promenade yourself, 
 these others who have known you, will they not say, 'Ah, 
 see, it is him returned. It is the great Chartist O'Rhea'? 
 The— the person who has told me will be silent, I think, but 
 these others ? " 
 
 "From to-night, Monsieur le Bailli,'' said O'Rhea, "no 
 person shall know me, except the Master of Hutcheon and 
 yourself. Will you permit me ? " 
 
 He went to the di-essing-table, and with a pair of scissors 
 quickly shore off his beard and burnt it. The Bailie, divin- 
 ing his further purpose, offered him a razor, and to expedite 
 and mollify the shaving, put his own shaving-tin of water 
 on the fire. In a few seconds the water was hot enough, 
 and O'Rhea made a lather and lathered himself well. He 
 
HOW O'RHEA MADE FRIENDS WITH THE BAILIE. 71 
 
 then stood with his back to the Bailie, looking in the glass 
 and shaving steadily. In two or three minutes he turned 
 and showed himself. The change effected was one to con- 
 sider and consider again. No one could haye guessed before 
 what the lower part of his face was like ; now he showed a 
 strong, square jaw and chin, and a large, full-lipped, and 
 somewhat contemptuous mouth. 
 
 " Ah, it is wonderful, the change ! " exclaimed the Bailie. 
 " Stay. Now I see. You are of the Revolution. You are 
 French. I will dress you in a very old coat and cravat, 
 and you shall see." He went and unlocked one of the 
 closets, and produced a coat of the time of the first French 
 Empire, and from a box a cravat. '' It has forty-five years," 
 said the Bailie. "It is the coat I wore when I went in the 
 conscription. I sent it to my mother and afterwards I 
 begged it from her. It will fit you. Try. I am not high 
 but I am wide." 
 
 O'Rhea put on the coat, and turned to the glass to tie 
 the ample cravat. He made a big, loose bow of it, with 
 ends and loops hanging down. Then he faced towards the 
 Bailie, who regarded him across the table. 
 
 " I ought to have my hair tied in a queue," said O'Rhea, 
 drawing back with one hand on his stubborn locks. 
 
 "Mon Dieu!" exclaimed the Bailie. " C^est extraor- 
 dinaire ! C'est Mirabeau ! " 
 
 There was, no doubt, a remarkable resemblance to 
 Mirabeau, which was emphasised by the somewhat scorbutic 
 appearance of the skin. O'Rhea turned again, and looked 
 at himself in the glass. He wished he had lived in the 
 days of the Revolution, for then he might have come to 
 something. 
 
 At that moment the door opened, and on the threshold 
 stood in astonishment a young lady, small, eager, bright 
 and gay as a humming-bird. 
 
 " Oh ! " she exclaimed, gazing open-eyed at O'Rhea. 
 
 " All right, my child," said the Bailie in English. " I 
 come in one minute.'' The young lady closed the door, and 
 the Bailie said to O'Rhea, " My daughter. She has this day 
 come from Edinburgh, and before that from Paris, Will 
 
72 THE KIXG OF AXDAMAX. 
 
 you come here on Sunday and talk ? Stay you long time 
 with the Monsieur of Utcheon ? " 
 
 "Not long, Monsieur le Bailli,"' said O'Ehea. "I am a 
 man who must live alone. I wish to find a little hut — a 
 cabin. I am Ul, and it is necessary that I rest. I have a 
 little money, enough to live prudently for the time." 
 
 " Ah,'' said the BaUie, "now I know. I have a very little 
 house just over my wall." 
 
 And the Bailie there and then signified that if "Monsieur 
 Mirabeau" cared to try the little house as a domicile he 
 might at a very moderate rental, and the Bailie would give 
 himself the pleasure, since '" Monsieur Mirabeau," probably, 
 would not care to go to the expense of buying furniture, of 
 sending in a few articles — superfluities of Corbie Ha'. And 
 it was agreed that it should be so, and that " Monsieur 
 Mirabeau " should enter upon possession on the following 
 Monday, that being Friday. 
 
 As they left the house they had a glimpse of Miss Lepine 
 on the stairs ; and Hamish (who, though unnoticed, had 
 been very wide awake all the time) went home with three 
 wonders whirling in his mind, wonders hitherto almost 
 unconceived — men talking a language of which he could 
 not understand a word, one man changing himself into 
 another, and an angel gliding towards him down a palatial 
 staircase. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 "a Max's foes . . ." 
 
 HuTCHEON was astonished at the new, the exposed 
 O'Rhea who returned with Hamish, but his eyes were too 
 occupied with his "Whamleeries " to have leisure to note how 
 and to what degree he ought to reckon his friend changed. 
 He let that opportunity slip for a readjustment of his estimate 
 of O'Rhea, and having let it slip be had no other, for he 
 
" A MAN'S FOES . . ." Y3 
 
 became gradually used to the shaven countenance, and 
 accepted it as that of the O'Rhea he had hitherto conceived 
 — the somewhat hot-headed and domineering man, but the 
 staunch and true-hearted friend. 
 
 Hutcheon continued at work far into the night, and 
 O'Rhea (Hamish having long gone home) sat sprawling his 
 arms on the table, drinking heady liquor, and pouring forth 
 heady talk, giving Hutcheon all his confidence (or what 
 seemed his confidence) but getting none in return. • That 
 simple, unconscious reserve of Hutcheon's had a curious 
 effect on O'Rhea. He believed that it was maintained of set 
 purpose, and that it hid some deep and far-reaching design ; 
 and, in consequence, while it exasperated him, it gave him 
 such a respect for Hutcheon as he had for no other man. 
 And still he sat and talked, his arms sprawling on the table, 
 and the longer he talked and continued to draw inspiration 
 from his tumbler, the redder grew his face and the more like 
 Mirabeau's, the thicker became his voice and the coarser his 
 words, and the taller, the more distant, and the more in- 
 scrutable did Hutcheon appear. 
 
 At length both were weary and cold, and Hutcheon pro- 
 posed they should go to bed. 
 
 "There's five o' the things," said Hutcheon, raising high 
 one of his candles, and turning to survey the " Wham- 
 leeries," "ready for fixing on the lays." 
 
 "Oh, damn the things! "said O'Rhea. "Never tell me, 
 Hutcheon, that that's all your mind's set on. You're made 
 for greater things than slicing bits of wood and making 
 puzzle-boxes for a handful of musty weavers ! " 
 
 "Man," said Hutcheon, "I'm doing for my folk what 
 comes first to my hand. If anything better and bigger 
 comes to my hand to do for them, I'll be none the waur for 
 doing this." 
 
 "By G — d, Hutcheon, you're right 1 — right as always! 
 You've got a way of putting things — you didn't use to have 
 it — that makes me mum. Mark my words, Hutcheon : one 
 of these days you'll have the means of cutting a great figure, 
 and you'll cut it. As the Bailie would say, it is me that 
 tell you so, and when that happens, remember that Fergus 
 6 
 
74 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 O'Rhea is your friend and will help you through all, thick 
 and thin. There's my hand, my boy." 
 
 Huteheon took his hand, and laid his other on the shoul- 
 der of his staunch and true-hearted friend. 
 
 " Fergus," said he, " whatever happens, I believe ye." 
 
 And so they went to bed. It did not occur to Huteheon 
 to inquire whether O'Rhea meant anything particular by his 
 prophecy of future greatness : he was too little concerned 
 about himself to wonder if O'Rhea prophesied with knowl- 
 edge. But that simple lack of curiosity was one more proof 
 to O'Rhea that Huteheon kept his eyes on some very tall 
 ambition for himself — so tall that all ordinary visions or 
 promises of wealth or consideration seemed beneath his 
 notice. What could that ambition be? and by what means 
 was he securely hoping to attain it? 
 
 The day that soon dawned broke over Ilkastane as many 
 a day had broken before — with the insistent clangour of 
 distant mill-bells, and the busy awaking of furnace fires, 
 which poured through their tall chimneys their insulting 
 smoke over the old village. But for all that it was a day 
 full of new meaning for Ilkastane, though Ilkastane knew 
 it not. It was a day to be remembered ; it was the first Sat- 
 urday of the month of March, 1856. 
 
 It was Saturday, and that was the day on which Hamish 
 M'Cree received from his grandmother his weekly allow- 
 ance of pocket-money. The money was paid "in kind," 
 so to say ; it consisted of the potato peelings of the week (and 
 other insignificant kitchen refuse of the M'Cree household), 
 which Hamish carried in a pail to Tamson's wife to help 
 to feed Tamson's swine withal. Tamson's wife usually 
 reckoned the contents of the pail at the value of a bawbee, 
 and a bawbee every Saturday morning Hamish, therefore, 
 counted on. On that particular Saturday morning Hamish 
 (after his breakfast of porridge and skim milk) set out with 
 his pail with a less easy conscience than common. He was 
 fond of school ; he was dux, or first, of his class, and he was 
 afraid of experiencing loss and disgrace that day, for, what 
 with his being taken up the evening before with the Maister's 
 " Whamleerie," and with the expedition to Corbie Ha', he 
 
"A MAN'S FOES . . ." 75 
 
 had had no time to prepare his lessons. He was revolving 
 in his mind whether it would not be better to find some ex- 
 cuse for absenting himself from school (being Saturday, it 
 was only half-day) than to go to be gradually reduced from 
 the top to the bottom of his class, and hang his head under 
 the severe look of his master. In the meantime, however, 
 he went to Tamson's. 
 
 Most of the houses in the Ilkastane loan were of two 
 storeys, accommodating from two to four households ; the 
 upper households attaining their abodes by an outer stone 
 staircase, the landing of which formed a roof for the simple 
 portico of those below. Tamson, as befitted so prosperous 
 a person, occupied the whole lower half of one of these 
 houses. Hamish rapped at Tamson's heavy door, a heavy 
 foot came grinding over the sanded flags of the passage, 
 and the door opened with a harsh, grating noise. Tamson 
 himself looked down at Hamish, and Tamson's dry voice 
 (as if it were sanded too) bade him " come in by." Tamson 
 was finishing his breakfast, and he requested Hamish to 
 " bide a wee." 
 
 "And how's the school getting on?" asked Tamson, with 
 his mouth full. 
 
 "Fine," answered Hamish. 
 
 "That's right. Ye'll be getting a braw scholard, I'm 
 thinking," said Tamson. 
 
 Hamish was modestly silent. 
 
 " Ye'll be gaun on at sic a rate that there'll be naething 
 mair for you to learn — winna that be it? " 
 
 " Na," said Hamish, with a lively sense of the illimitable 
 field of knowledge still before him. 
 
 " Ha'e ye started the Le'ttin and the Olgebra yet?" asked 
 Tamson, with a wink to his eldest son, a leggy, grinning 
 youth of sixteen. 
 
 "I've started the Latin," said Hamish. "I ken aino- 
 amavi." 
 
 " Do ye, though? Weel, we'd better start for the swine; 
 I maun tak' them their breakfast. Ye'd like to see the 
 swine, wouldna ye ? Nice craturs swine is," said Tamson, 
 leading the way with a pail of his own in one hand and 
 
7G THE KlXtt OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 Hamish's light pail in the other, while Hamish looking up 
 at him had a vague feeling that his shaven but bristly cheek, 
 and his small reddish eyes, made him seem not unlike a 
 swine himself. 
 
 " Ye aften do your lessons wi' Maister Hutcheon, dinna 
 ye, Hamish?" he asked when they were out of the house. 
 
 "Ay," said Hamish, "I aye do them." 
 
 " Ah, but yell ha'e to leave aff for a while, as I under- 
 stand. He's making some contrivance or other he means to 
 keep at late and early, I've heard."' 
 
 " He's made it," said Hamish in triumph. 
 
 " Made it ! " exclaimed Tamson, stopping to bore into 
 him with his piggish eyes. " It's no possible, man? " 
 
 " He's made a good mony," said Hamish. 
 
 " Has he? They canna be hard to mak', then. Ye 
 canna tell me what the thing's like, I suppose. Na — little 
 loons like you dinna tak' notice o' they things ; ye're think- 
 ing aye o' taps and strings, and thrummles and draygons." 
 
 " I ken what it's like," said Hamish in some offence. 
 
 "Do ye? Come, now, tell me, then.'' 
 
 And Hamish, desiring to show how clever he was, and 
 not knowing lie was betraying a secret, described the , 
 " Whamleerie " sufficiently well to convince Tamson that it 
 was a valuable invention, and to inflame his covetous heart 
 with the longing to possess it for his own. He was shrewd 
 enough to make light of it, however, even to Hamish. 
 
 " A bonny thing, I daursay. But I dinna see the use o't. 
 So ye ha'ena started the Olgebra yet. But ye ken your 
 arith-mettic, I daursay. D'ye ken substraction? " 
 
 " I'm lang past that," said Hamish with some resentment. 
 
 " Ye can tak' seven from eight, may be," said Tamson, 
 posing him, " but it'll stick ye to take eight frae seven." 
 
 " Ye can tak' eight frae seven if ye borrow one." 
 " Ay, min," said Tamson, " is that it? Ye borrow one. 
 Weel, min, that's a gey good notion to borrow one. Ye're a 
 clever loon, Hamish ; ha"e ! " 
 
 To Hamish's intense surprise and delight Tamson gave 
 him a penny, which, of course, was equivalent to two 
 " bawbees." He was so seized with the possession of that 
 
'• A MAX'S FOES . . ." 77 
 
 magnificent sum that he forgot his grandmother's pail, and 
 set ofT at a run, jnot quite knowing whither he went. That 
 was the last touch that set his attention and fancy all astray. 
 The strange experiences of the evening before — the '' Wham- 
 leerie," O'Rhea's speaking in an unknown tongue and turn- 
 ing himself into another man, and the vision of an angel — 
 these had unsettled all his former notions of things, and 
 now the receipt from Tamson of a glorious penny sent them 
 flying. He had, like his elders, his preconception of the 
 scheme of the world. Certain things had happened to com- 
 pel a reconsideration and a reconstruction of that scheme, 
 and away he went into space in the meantime. 
 
 Tamson, on the summons of the mill-bell, returned to his 
 duty at the Hargate, but through it all he was reckoning up 
 the value of Hutcheon's invention. His knowledge of the 
 power-looms showed him how easy it would be to adapt the 
 invention for their use, and how valuable it would be to 
 them when adapted. As yet on the ptnver-looms there had 
 not been attempted the weaving of striped wincey ; it was 
 not worth while with the constant and tedious changing of 
 shuttles, but with the " Whamleerie stripe could be accom- 
 plished as well as plain. If the invention were his, Tamson 
 thought, and if he had money, he would patent it at once, 
 and his fortune would be made. But he had no money — 
 at least, not enough for that. Still, he could sell it to a 
 wealthy man like the Bailie. And why should he not make 
 one of his own and sell it to the Bailie ? Tamson had no 
 creative or inventive gift, but he was qliick to apprehend. 
 He had sufficiently understood from Hamish's description 
 the points of the contrivance, but who would ever suspect 
 him of having got his idea from a boy of seven ? The 
 Ilkastane weavers came about twelve o'clock, according to 
 compact, to receive their webs, but it did not at all touch 
 the organ which Tamson, like any other, would call his 
 "heart," that he was plotting to deprive these poor wretches, 
 who aforetime had been his comrades, of a contrivance that 
 had been intended solely for their benefit. 
 
 Wlien he got home for the week he gave himself scarcely 
 time to eat his dinner, so eager was he to try his hand at 
 
78 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 making a "Whamleerie.'' He shaped his pieces of wood, 
 and nailed them together, and sand-papered them (for he 
 also had some knowledge of carpentry) ; but when these 
 things were done he knew not what else to do. He did not 
 understand whether the thing was meant to work horizon- 
 tally or perpendicularly. And all the while there ran in his 
 head the words of Hamish — " if ye borrow one." He left 
 his occupation, put his hands in his pockets, and stepped 
 out into the loan. There he found a considerable stir. 
 Hamish M'Cree had not been seen since morning (and it 
 was then well on in the afternoon), and old M'Cree had 
 gone one way and " the Maister " another to look for him. 
 And Tamson exulted, for now it was possible for him to 
 get a sight of " the Maister's Whamleerie.'' " The Lord 
 hath delivered it into my hand ! " thought Tamson ; for the 
 wicked man is as ready as the righteous to claim Providence, 
 if he can, as a partner in his designs. 
 
 He waited until it was dark, and then he slipped into 
 Hutcheon's close. He noted that there was no light in 
 Hutcheon's windows, and he stepped carefully up the stairs, 
 for there were weavers in the shop below, and tried the 
 latch of Hutcheon's door. It was locked. He felt for the 
 key under the "bass " or mat (the common hiding-place for 
 door-keys in Ilkastane), found it to his great joy, and opened 
 the door. A lump of peat glowed in the grate, but not suflB.- 
 ciently to send any light abroad. Tamson quickly gathered 
 a handful of shavings and set them on the fire. When 
 they burned up he crouched low lest his tall figure should 
 be seen through the window, and fastened his eyes on the 
 " Whamleerie " that was fixed in the lay. He put more 
 shavings with a stick or two on the fire, and then turned to 
 carefully examine the working of the thing. He drew it up 
 and let it fall ; but he was afraid to drive the shuttle to and 
 fro lest the weavers below should hear the noise. 
 " By George ! " he murmured. " It's no that ill ! " 
 He was about to rise when a strong hand seized him by 
 the back of the neck. He managed to wrench his head 
 round, and saw a big man, close shaven, with a grin creas- 
 ing his cheeks. 
 
"A MAN'S FOES . . ," 79 
 
 " Nice bit of work that, isn't it ? " said the big man. 
 " Means a lot of money to anybody but a fool like Hutcheon, 
 don't it 2 " 
 
 " By George 1 " murmured Tamson. " It's O'Rhea ! I 
 ken the voice." 
 
 The hand let go its hold, and Tamson turned, still crouch- 
 ing, while O'Rhea sat down over against him with his arm 
 on the table and laughed a subdued, wicked, derisive and 
 exasperating laugh — the laugh of an arrogant but suspicious 
 man who knows what danger is, but who cares little what 
 another may say and do. The ruddy glow of the fire made 
 Tamson's crouching figure seem more grotesquely huddled 
 than it was, and threw up with effect the astonishment and 
 perplexity of Tamson's face. 
 
 " Ay, Hew," said O'Rhea, imitating Tamson's dialect, " ye 
 ken my voice, do ye ? Even a black sheep kens the shep- 
 herd's voice." And he sniggered again. " Oh, Tamson, 
 Tamson ! I doubt ye'U come to a bad end. Ye began as a 
 Chartist traitor. Hew." 
 
 "Me?" 
 
 " Ay, Hew, you. Nobody but you gave the information 
 that made me and George Hutcheon run seven years ago ; 
 nobody but you, I believe, went to my friend Bailie Lepine 
 last night and tried to set him against me ; and now you 
 come here like a thief in the night, Tamson ! Tamson, 
 Tamson," continued he, " your account's running up, but 
 I'll let you have tick a while longer, if so be you behave 
 yourself. Meantime you'd better hook it. Hutcheon may 
 be in any minute." 
 
 Tamson rose to his feet and came near. 
 
 " Come, now, Fergus," said he, " as man to man " 
 
 " ' A man's a man for a' that,' " sniggered O'Rhea. " Oh, 
 Tamson ! O you Scotch humbug ! " Tamson was about to 
 resume. " Oh, get out ! I believe I hear Hutcheon in the 
 close ! Get out, and lock the door as you found it." 
 
 And Tamson "got out" in some trepidation, and argued 
 from O'Rhea's last direction that he did not mean to men- 
 tion to Hutcheon his burglarious visit. 
 
80 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF TAMSON'S PENNY. 
 
 Hamish had no clear intention of either playing truant 
 or spending his penny Avhen he burst away from Tamson 
 and the pigs. He merely obeyed an overwhelming impulse 
 to be free and at large, to give way to an abounding sense 
 of life and of the promise of life. He was little more than 
 a child, but the child who has health and faculty has a 
 keener joy of such life as he knows or imagines than has 
 the man who has been tutored bj' experience into wariness 
 and doubt. 
 
 Hamish sped away up the loan, and on towards the town, 
 for there, among the rows of shops and the throngs of 
 people and animals, on the quays and near the ships, lay the 
 fruition of all hope, the satisfaction of that curiosity con- 
 cerning the unknown which agitates and impels all young 
 and romantic souls. Presently ahead of him he recognised 
 young Mr. Lepine. He knew him by his walk ; that step 
 which did not thud or drag at the heel, but which trod the 
 ground with one firm, light pat, as if it scorned it, and 
 sprang a little as if in buoyancy of spirit. Hamish did not 
 venture near. He feared he might be questioned about his 
 evasion of school, and perchance be ignominiously marched 
 back ; but he set himself again to imitate that admirable 
 step. Yet, alas'! he felt it cruelly that it was not given to 
 weaver-boys to tread the ground with well-bred scorn. 
 Their shoes do not fit very neatly and their soles are thick 
 and unyielding. Young Mr. Lepine turned aside to the 
 Hargate Mill, and Hamish continued on his way with a 
 freer attention. 
 
 It was a perilous adventure upon wliich he had set out, 
 demanding of him as much nerve and resolution as a soldier 
 would need to pass, unarmed and alone, through a hostile 
 country. He had not even the comfort of being ignorant 
 of the dangers which he must face or circumvent. He had 
 gone that way before, but always in the company of a full- 
 
THE ADVENTURES OP TAMSON'S PENNY. 81 
 
 grown man. First of all there was a wide and lonely stretch 
 of road which led him past a g^eat lunatic asylum, where 
 strange men grinned and giggled at him between strong iron 
 railings, or gibbered at him over a very high wall, and past 
 the public shambles whence came always frightful bellow- 
 ings and whither were always being driven, by shouting 
 men and barking dogs, droves of great cattle with rolling 
 eyes and threatening horns — wild bulls, Hamish thought 
 them all — which always boggled at entering the wide gates 
 of the slaughter-ground, and frequently galloped madly 
 away in terror and rage, spreading dismay along the road. 
 Then, as he neared the town, there was a narrow way which 
 had houses and closes on the one hand, swarming with 
 dirty children, and on the other an open and unprotected 
 muddy burn which came from underground, and flowed 
 sulkily along under a fringe of trees and bushes on the 
 farther side. There rats squeaked and plunged, and chil- 
 dren yelled and ,fought. The passage through that lane 
 Hamish feared more than even the lunatics and the wild 
 bulls ; for big rough boys and girls had often threatened 
 him with violence there even when he was in the company 
 of Steven or " the Maister.'' 
 
 These pei'ils, however, he safely passed. The lunatics 
 grinned and gibbered, but he trotted by with averted head ; 
 by the shambles there was not a wild bull to be seen (for it 
 was Saturday), and the narrow way by the burn he took at 
 a pelting rush. And so he was in the town, and presently 
 was wandering along a busy street where horses and carts 
 clamped and clattered, where people pushed past him on the 
 pavement, unheeding his alert and quaint figure arrayed in 
 Glengarry and tartan. 
 
 He could now feast his eyes on the great shop windows 
 at his leisure; for when in town, hitherto, his big com- 
 panions had hurried him along, heedless of his expressed 
 desire to " bide " and look. He now lingered at the windows 
 of confectioners' shops, grocers' shops, toy shops, and, most 
 of all, booksellers' shops, where volumes stood open with 
 pictures displayed. It was not mere curiosity that held him, 
 but the keen desire of possession. Though so young he had 
 
82 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 something of the feeling of the Highland cateran when he 
 descended from his wilds into a Lowland town, or of savage 
 old Blucher when he rode through London city and ex- 
 claimed " Was plunder ! " There was nothing of all he saw 
 that his eye passed over as unworthy of possession, and he 
 restlessly turned his penny in his warm hand. There were 
 so many things to buy — things to eat, and things to look at 
 — and there was, after all, so little to buy them with that he 
 moved along from shop to shop in a complete embarrass- 
 ment of desire, and came to the end of his engrossed survey 
 with Tamson's penny still in his hand. 
 
 He had arrived at the top of a steep street, at the bottom 
 of which he saw the masts of ships, crowded together like 
 the trees of the wood of Drumoak, and bare as those trees in 
 winter. Beyond the masts shone the river, and beyond the 
 river rose the stern hills that shut out the mysterious world 
 of the south. Hamish stood and gazed, and felt himself on 
 the verge of dangers and delights unknown. He had learnt 
 enough at school and heard enough among the weavers to 
 know that the ships in the harbour sailed to strange ports 
 and to strange lands ; and he went down among them to 
 consider their aspect, and to form pictures to himself of the 
 places and the people whence they had come. When he 
 reached the bottom of the street he found himself in a be- 
 wildering bustle. Along the quay rolled and clattered 
 heavy horses and drays, and on rails there glided great 
 waggons piled with coal or loaded with sacks and boxes; 
 while above all, at the edge of the quay, towered the 
 sides and the masts of the great ships and steamers, and 
 snorted and caracolled here and - there the busy donkey 
 engines. 
 
 Hamish was possessed and taken out of himself by the 
 strange sights, the strange noises, and the strange smells. 
 The last were especially strange and pungent. With the 
 pleasant scent of tar and pitch, and the mixed and musty 
 odours of merchandise, there was mingled the stench of the 
 harbour (or "shore") water which a flowing tide was en- 
 deavouring to dilute and make wholesome with its outer 
 brine. The tide was flowing— was, indeed, almost at its 
 
THE ADVENTURES OP TAMSON'S PENNY. 83 
 
 height — and therefore the dock gates were open, so that 
 neither Hamish nor any could pass to the other side, which 
 gave upon the " Inches " and the bank of the river, without 
 going round by the drawbridge. He thus could see little 
 of those magnificent clippers, for the building of which 
 Inverdoon was become famous. As he wandered along the 
 inner quay, however, he came upon one of these graceful 
 ships and gazed with delight. She had just been launched 
 and her masts were being put in. Her fresh paint and 
 gilding and her great height and length attracted his eye, 
 and her beauty of line, the fine curve of her bows, as in a 
 picture, and the sweep of her stern, held him without his 
 knowing why. He gazed up at the figure-head, a fierce 
 black man, whose body streamed backward into the lines 
 of the ship, with staring eyes and great white turban, and he 
 read the legend in gold scroll-work on the bows and on the 
 stern — Surajah Dowlah — and wondered to what mysterious 
 land of balm and spice, of bloodshed and idolatry, the ship 
 would sail anon with her flags and pennons flying, and her 
 sails swelling out to the wind, and her swarming sailors, 
 with rings in their ears and quids in their cheeks, shouting 
 " Heave-ho ! " He wished he were a man and a seafarer, to be 
 ever in the sun and the wind, and to sail over shining seas 
 by dangerous reefs and near wooded shores, where lurked 
 wild beasts and savage men, on to a friendly land, whence 
 would come in gayest welcome swift and curious canoes 
 filled with smiling natives and laden with cocoa-nuts. To 
 Hamish the crown and glory of tropical produce was the 
 cocoa-nut. 
 
 But while he thus stood and dreamed, gazing up at the 
 Surajah Dowlah, there came upon his ear the sound of 
 many excited voices and the running together of many 
 people. He turned, and saw men and women, boys and 
 girls, flocking in haste, with laughter and cries, from street 
 and close over the wide quay to a certain spot he had passed 
 where was an empty space between the ships. Seeing all 
 the people run, Hamish ran too, over cables and chains, and 
 under gangways from the decks of ships, until he arrived at 
 the place where the crowd was gathering. 
 
84 THE KING OF ANDAMAN'. 
 
 Then he saw what attracted all. A large steamer, whose 
 enormous paddles were heating the harbour water into white 
 froth, was pushing and edging into the empty space between 
 the ships, while big shore porters kept the crowd back with 
 their shouts and their strained efforts to attach ropes from 
 the steamer to mooring posts. The steamer seemed crowded 
 irith Highland soldiers in all their parade pride of red 
 jackets, with plaids flaunting from the shoulder, and bon- 
 nets with dancing plumes. As the vessel pushed closer 
 and closer to the quay, one soldier and another and another 
 recognised his friends ashore and shouted strange gi'eetings, 
 to which friends and friends' friends responded with ex- 
 traordinary excitement. By listening intently to what he 
 heard around him, Hamish learned that this was "the 
 London boat,'" and that these were the "Hieland lad- 
 dies"' returning fi-om the war — the great "Eooshian 
 war" — which Hamish was learned enough to know had 
 but just come to an end. Then Hamish himself began 
 to burst with excitement, and he wished he were a 
 friend of a soldier, \\-ith whom he might exchange 
 greetings. 
 
 The excitement of the whole crowd attained its height, 
 and boiled and bubbled over when there was heard ap- 
 proaching along the quay, from the Castle-hill, the band of 
 the Highland regiment then in garrison in the Castle. At 
 first drum and fife were heai-d shrilly demanding, '" "Whaur 
 ha'e ye been a' the day, bonnie laddie, Hieland laddie ?" 
 and then the bagpipes raised a wild and stirring strain 
 which Hamish did not know, all in honotir of the soldiers 
 returning from the war. The crowd opened to receive the 
 pipers and the rest with loud "hoochs!"' of welcome, and 
 submitted gaily to be pushed back by the sergeant and his 
 squad that had come with the band to keep a space clear for 
 landing. But the interest and excitement pa&sed all bounds 
 when the gi'im and bearded warriors came down the gang- 
 way one by one. Then it was seen what a terrible business 
 the war had been for many. This one came ashore on 
 crutches, that one with an empty sleeve, while a third 
 limped with the aid of a stall. 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF TAMSON'S PENNY. 85 
 
 " Eh, wae's me ! " exclaimed an old woman. " But the 
 puir Hieland lads, ha'e they a' tint * something ? " 
 
 "And if they ha'e," cried another, "they maun a' ha'e 
 foughten weel, and they're bonnie men ane and a' ! " 
 
 " They're a' frae Scutari,'' said one of the soldiers on 
 guard — " the hospital — the infirmary, ye ken. That's what 
 for they're hame first." 
 
 It was only later that Hamish understood what that 
 meant. Then he but saw with all his eyes these great, noble, 
 bearded men, and believed they appeared — halt, maimed, 
 and worn as they were — fresh from the heat and horror of 
 battle. He expected to see them wearing their swords bare 
 and blood-stained ; but though all bore knapsacks and 
 bayonets at their side, many did not even carry muskets. 
 Yet, when the chief piper swelled his broad chest and blew 
 into his pipes, and the other pipers did likewise, and the 
 escorted soldiers formed fours, and when to the shrill 
 martial strains of " The Campbells are Coming 1 " they all 
 marched away proudly swinging kilt and plaid, then Ha- 
 mish's heart and soul went out to the Highlanders ; he felt as 
 if he were a soldier himself, and invested with the glory of 
 military prowess. He tramped and trotted along, with the 
 jostling crowd, by tlie leg of a stalwart soldier. As they 
 marched on to the Castle with the skirling pipes in their 
 van, the crowd attracted to itself more and more excited 
 spirits. At one point a hale old woman, wrinkled and ruddy 
 as a winter apple, burst from the crowd with a cry of " Oh, 
 Geordie ! Eli, my bonnie bairn ! " She was raised in the 
 arms of a big soldier, who exclaimed " Mither ! " kissed her, 
 and set her down again before she was aware. Then the 
 two ,tramped along hand in hand without another word. 
 The crowd laughed and cheered in the maddest sympathy. 
 The laughter and cheers were redoubled, and dashed here 
 and there with women's tears, when a poor old man, who 
 had been caught away by the general excitement from his 
 wretched occupation of vending water-cress (or " sourocks ") 
 pushed through the crowd, and standing on its inner edge 
 
 »Lost. 
 
86 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 bestowed handful after handful of his stock-in-trade on the 
 passing heroes till not a blade remained in his basket. It 
 was so spontaneous, and so completely generous an oflFering, 
 although it was so poor, that it could not fail to touch all 
 hearts. Tears sprang to the eyes of even the grim, bearded 
 soldiers themselves, and Hamish was moved in a way which 
 he could not understand. Tamson's penny still lay warm 
 in his grasp. He opened his hand and held out his treasure 
 to the soldier by whom he was marching. 
 
 " Ha'e," he said. 
 
 " Hallo, kornel," said the soldier, looking down. " What 
 is't ? A maik ? No, a penny ! Good for you. Na, iia, my 
 mannie, keep it to your nainsel' ! " 
 
 So saying, he caught Hamish from the ground and swung 
 him to a seat on his shoulder, and laughter and cheers broke 
 out afresh. 
 
 Hamish was very soon at his ease on his lofty perch, and 
 he surveyed with delight the agitated ostrich plumes of the 
 soldiers and the eager and excited faces of the surging crowd. 
 Thus he traversed the rest of the way to the barracks on the 
 crown of the Castle-hill, and was so well pleased with him- 
 self and his position that he forgot all about the passage of 
 time and the possible anxiety of those at home. At the 
 barrack gates the crowd was excluded, but Hamish still kept 
 his perch. Once in the barrack-square, however, he had 
 to descend and stand aside while the soldiers went through 
 some formality, before an officer, of having their names 
 called or what not. 
 
 " Bide a wee," said his friend when he set him down. " I'll 
 be back to ye the noo." * 
 
 The formality over, the returned heroes separated this way 
 and that as guests of the regiment in garrison. Hamish's 
 friend came to him. 
 
 "Come on, kornel," said he, taking his hand, "'we're 
 gaun to ha'e our denner. And what's your name, kor- 
 nel ? " 
 
 " Hamish M'Cree,'' answered Hamish. 
 
 * The noo — at once. 
 
THE ADVENTURES OP TAMSON'S PENNY. 87 
 
 "No, mill !" exclaimed the soldier. "Ye dinna mean the 
 M'Crees o' Ilkastane ? " 
 
 " Ay," said Hamish, " I bide at Ilkastane wi' my granny, 
 and I aye learn my school-lessons wi' the Maister." 
 
 " Ye mean wi' the schoolmaister." 
 
 " Na, I mean Maister Hutcheon." 
 
 " To be sure," said the soldier, " I had forgotten. Weel, 
 kornel, I'm frae Ilkastane mysel'. So shak' hands. Ye ken 
 auld Saunders M'Kay 2 " 
 
 " Ay," answered Hamish, " I ken him fine." 
 
 "And maybe ye've heard o' his loon Donald, a wild 
 nickem they ca' him, dinna they ? " asked the soldier with a 
 grin. 
 
 " I dinna ken," said Hamish. 
 
 " Weel," said the soldier, " I'm Donald. And how's the 
 auld man, my feyther ? Is he brawly ? Footin' it about, and 
 hoastin' * as usual, I daursay, puir auld man. But come on, 
 kornel ; we'll ha'e some broth, and then me and you'll gang 
 hame thegither." 
 
 Hamish was astonished and delighted with the conde- 
 scension and affability of the great warrior, though some- 
 what disappointed to find him nothing more than a son of 
 old Saunders M'Kay. But when they entered the barrack- 
 room to which he was led, and his friend and the others 
 took off their imposing plumed bonnets and showed nothing 
 more than common heads of men — heads, indeed, that were 
 strangely and unusually bearded — he was perplexed, and 
 found it necessary to reconstruct his idea of a soldier who 
 had fought the Russians. 
 
 He was made much of by the warm-hearted fellows. He 
 was placed at the barrack-table with a spoon and a knife, 
 and there was set out for him a Benjamin's mess of the 
 broth and the beef and the bread. But before he or any of 
 the company began to eat, his friend Donald turned to 
 him. 
 
 " Nae doubt," said he, " ye're a braw scholard, kornel. 
 Let's be dacent now that we're hame, and say grace." 
 
 * Coughing. 
 
88 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 •Ay," said another, "let's ha"e a grace. It's a lang time 
 since we had a guid Scots screed." 
 
 So Hamish put his hands together, shut his eyes, and said 
 grace, while the soldiers looked at him and listened. 
 
 "Man, kornel," said Donald, when Hamish had said 
 " Amen " and opened his eyes, " ye'd mak' a hraw minister ! 
 Ye'll wag your pow in a pulpit yet, min I " he added with an 
 emphatic nod. 
 
 Hamish was delighted to be thought so highly of, and 
 gossiped about all his friends in Ilkastane and his school 
 attainments till the dinner was at an end and it seemed 
 time to go home. 
 
 "We'll just ha'e a dram in the canteen," said Donald, 
 " and then we'll hand awa' out hame." 
 
 So to the canteen the whole party adjourned. Tliey sat 
 down at a table and called for a dram. One dram led to 
 another and to a general demand for an ' auld Scots sang." 
 So they drank drams and sang " Scots sangs " — songs senti- 
 mental and songs warlike — till the afternoon wore away 
 and the dusk began to gather ; and all the while Hamish 
 sat in a chair as a kind of president, with his legs rather 
 painfully dangling, and wondered at the changes that grad- 
 ually came over the faces and voices of the soldiers, and 
 the confidences that were imparted to him on this side and 
 on that. He kept urging his friend Donald to " come hame," 
 but Donald kept replying, " Bide a wee, kornel. " At length 
 came a demand for a song from "the kornel." 
 
 " The kornel's a scholard. The kornel says grace. Con- 
 sequently — and that's logic — the kornel sings sangs. Come, 
 kornel, a sang." 
 
 It happened that Hamish had just learned a song at 
 school, so he modestly agreed to oblige the company. He 
 had but j^ist been mounted on the table to deliver himself 
 with the greater effect, and was singing — 
 
 '•.See the conquering lie-he-he-he-hero co-omc- 1" 
 
 when " The Maister," Hutcheou himself, entered and stood 
 towering over the cheering soldiers. 
 
NEWS FROM A PAR COUNTRY. 89 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 NEWS FROM A FAR COUNTRY. 
 
 Hamish ceased his song and blushed, and Hutcheon 
 gazed in amazement from him to the applauding soldiers. 
 
 " What the sorra are ye doin' here, laddie? " he ex- 
 claimed. " This is a queer ploy for a steady chiel like you ! 
 Your gran'father and me's been lookin' for ye high and low, 
 thinkin' something might ha' happened to ye comin' out o' 
 the school." 
 
 " I ha'ena been to the school," said Hamish, hanging his 
 head. 
 
 " No been to the school ! " exclaimed Hutcheon. " That's 
 waur and waur ! My certy ! An' ha'e ye been truantin' the 
 lee-lang day?" 
 
 "I didna ken," said Hamish, "it was sae lang. It was 
 the penny that did it — Hew Tamson's penny." 
 
 " Ay, rain," said Hutcheon, with a smile, " though ye're 
 but a wee bit loon ye're like the first man in the garden. 
 He said it was the apple ; ye say it was the penny ; it comes 
 to the same thing. It's human natur', I daursay. But how 
 cam' Hew Tamson to gi'e ye a haill penny ? " 
 
 " It was for the swine's meat," answered Hamish, simply, 
 " and 'cause he thought I was gettin' on at the school." 
 
 " To be sure," said Donald M'Kay, who, with the other 
 soldiers, had listened attentively to this passage of dialogue 
 between Hamish and Hutcheon. " Of course the kornel's a 
 scholard." 
 
 " Surely, man, I ken you," said Hutcheon, laying his 
 hand on Donald's shoulder. 
 
 " To be sure, Maister Hutcheon," answered Donald, with 
 a loud laugh and a fierce grip of Hutcheon 's hand ; " of 
 coorse, ye ken me. I'm just auld Saunders M'Kay's loon 
 Donald." 
 
 "An' ye're hame frae the war," said Hutcheon, "wi' your 
 spolia opima ? " 
 
 " Aj'," said Donald, "just that. Spoil me this or spoil me 
 7 
 
90 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 that, we've come by the London boat. An' how's a' wi' the 
 folk at Ilkastane? My auld feyther, I daursay, is aye hirplin' 
 and hoastin' aboot ? " 
 
 Then Hutcheon sat down and gossiped freely about all 
 things in the little world of Ilkastane, and inquired concern- 
 ing the soldiers' experiences abroad ; and it is worthy of re- 
 mark that the soldiers paid homage to that something of 
 unconscious dignity and domination in Hutcheon's manner 
 by addressing him as " Sir," though he was attired scarcely 
 better than the average weaver. 
 
 "And now," said Hutcheon, after a while, addressing 
 Donald, " ye'U be comin' hame wi' us to see the auld man, 
 your father. He'll be thinkin' lang to set een on ye." 
 
 "Na, Maister Hutcheon," said Donald, "na, min. The 
 auld man'll no be thinkin' lang for me, 'cause he doesna ken 
 I'm comin'. What the head doesna ken the heart doesna 
 grieve. But I'm comin' — hoot ay, I'm comin', whenever I 
 get my doch-an-dorrach.^' 
 
 So, since Donald spread himself for the enjoyment of his 
 final glass, Hutcheon and Hamish set out by themselves on 
 their return to Ilkastane. Hamish, when he thus found 
 himself alone with " The Maister," feared that he might be 
 scolded for his day's conduct. To deprecate Hutcheon's 
 anger, therefore, he held tight to the lean, strong hand, and 
 looked up the while into the kind face. 
 
 " Weel, sir," said " The Maister," " ye've begun early to 
 gang out to see the world, and to walk up and down in it. 
 And, I daursay, ye've waired * the muckle penny Hew Tam- 
 son gi'ed ye ? " 
 
 " Na," said Hamish, " I've got it yet." 
 
 And he held up the coin between finger and thumb, and 
 explained, while Hutcheon lent an attentive ear, how diffi- 
 cult he had found it to decide on buying anything, and how 
 at length, when others were bestowing gifts on the soldiers, 
 he had offered his penny to Donald, which Donald would 
 not take. By that time they had passed through the bar- 
 rack-gates, about which were gathered friends or i-elatives of 
 
 * Spent. 
 
NEWS PROM A PAR COUNTRY. 91 
 
 the soldiers, waiting to be allowed to pass in to them or to 
 receive them when they came out. Then, as they went 
 down the Castle-hill and across the great market-square 
 named the Castlegate, Hamish recalled and vividly described 
 the strange incidents of the triumphal progress of the re- 
 turned soldiers. 
 
 " Oh," exclaimed Hamish, " wouldna I like to be a 
 sodger 1 " 
 
 " Ay,'' said Hutcheon, considering him, "' ye would, would 
 ye ? Weel, it's nae wonder, for ye come o' fightin' folk. 
 Your forefathers were a' men o' the sword." 
 
 " Was my father a man o' the sword ? " asked Hamish ; 
 he liked the ring of the phrase " men o' the sword," and he 
 had often before asked about his father and been put off by 
 Hutcheon with the assurance that if he would " bide a wee " 
 he would know all. 
 
 " Na," answered Hutcheon, "your father wasna, but your 
 grandfather was, and a lang string afore him." 
 
 " Ye mean Grandfather M'Cree ? " asked Hamish. 
 
 " Na, na," said Hutcheon, with some curtness, " I did no 
 mean him — though he has been a kind o' a sodger in his 
 time in a sma'-fee'd sort o' way. I meant your gran'ther on 
 the other side, though I should rightly ha' said your great- 
 gran'ther, for your gran'ther was just a douce, canny man 
 wi' a supple cane for lads that gaed truanting, and mony's 
 the time he laid it on me." 
 
 Hamish looked up and smiled. He felt a new sort of 
 kinship with Hutcheon since he had played truant also, 
 whilst he knew that there was no cane in pickle for him. 
 
 Once among the shops again Hamish wished to linger to 
 feed his eyes upon the treasures of the windows, but Hutch- 
 eon let him stay only once at a bookseller's, saying that he 
 must be " getting on," for he had business to do. In the 
 bookseller's window was displayed a cheap edition of JJo6- 
 inson Crusoe, laid seductively open at a gorgeously coloured 
 picture of the hero recoiling in terror from the footprint in 
 the sand. Hamish exclaimed " Oh ! " and drew Hutcheon 
 down to admire. He so evidently panted to possess the 
 book that " The Maister " took pity on him. 
 
92 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 " Ye'd like that book for your ain, wouldna ye ? It looks 
 gey grand." 
 
 " I ken the man it's about," said Hamish eagerly. " He 
 had a cat and a dog and a parrot, and the parrot used to say 
 ' Poor Robin ! Robin Crusoe ! ' I've read that in the school- 
 book." 
 
 " Ye'd like to buy the book, I daursay," said Hutcheon. 
 
 " But I've naething but a penny," said Hamish. 
 
 "May be," said Hutcheon, with a smile that made 
 Hamish's heart leap, " I've two-three pennies more. Come 
 awa' in." 
 
 So they entered the shop, and Hutcheon inquired the 
 price of the book. The price was enormous — a whole half- 
 crown ! — but Hamish promptly put his penny down and 
 looked at Hutcheon with an appeal in his eye for the rest of 
 tlie sum. The price was paid, and Hamish left the shop 
 without his penny, but with such a treasure caught to his 
 heart as he had never possessed in his life before. 
 
 " Now," said Hutcheon, " I maun see to my business." 
 
 By the side of the old court-house ran a narrow street in 
 a corner of which lurked the door of the police-station. 
 Down this street passed Hutcheon and stopped opposite the 
 station, at a door on which glowed a big brass plate with the 
 inscription, "Henderson, Advocate." Hutcheon knocked, 
 and while he waited he said to Hamish, pointing across the 
 way: 
 
 " I had to speir at the Police about ye ; it's a wonder they 
 didna tak' ye up for a vagabond loon." 
 
 " What's your wull ? " asked an old woman in a mutch 
 who opened the door. 
 
 " I wish to see the advocate," said Hutcheon. 
 
 "It's lang aifter business time, sirs," said the old woman. 
 
 " I ken that brawly,'' answered Hutcheon, " but the ad- 
 vocate's expectin' me. I was here a while ago, but couldna 
 bide ; I said I'd come back." 
 
 "Weel," objected the woman, "I kenna " 
 
 " Gae 'wa', woman," interrupted he, " and tell the advo- 
 cate the Maister o' Hutcheon's here." 
 
 He said that with such an air of authority that the old 
 
NEWS FROM A PAR COUNTRY. 93 
 
 woman looked at him in some surprise and then stood 
 aside to drop a curtsey and admit him. He (and Hamish 
 at his heel) was ushered into an office where the gas burned 
 low. The old woman turned up the light, and left them. 
 While they waited Hamish let his eyes rove about the room 
 and wondered if the black tin boxes with white-lettered 
 names were a new, private, and reduced kind of coffin. 
 Presently there bustled in a dry and dusty-looking little man 
 in spectacles. 
 
 "Weel, Maister Hutcheon," said he, "ye're back, and 
 this, I daursay, is the lost sheep ye were lookin' for. But 
 winna ye come ben to the parlour ? There's a fire there.'' 
 
 " I thank ye, Mr. Henderson," said Hutcheon, " but I'm 
 no cauld. This'll do fine. Ye had something o' great 
 importance to tell me, I think ye said ? " 
 
 " Ay, sir," said the old lawyer, unlocking a drawer and 
 taking from it a letter. " Here we are. Meanwhiley,'' con- 
 tinued he, looking over his spectacles at Hamish, who was 
 all attention and curiosity, " the laddie can be lookin' at the 
 braw book I see he's got." 
 
 Hamish was covered with shame, for it was the first time 
 in his young life he had been reproved for seeking to 
 understand what was going on ; and he therefore made 
 up his mind to dislike Mr. Henderson, He opened his 
 book, however, and the lawyer sat down over against " The 
 Maister." 
 
 " Ye had a brither, Maister Hutcheon ? " said the lawyer. 
 
 " Had f " exclaimed Hutcheon. " I have, — have I 
 no?" 
 
 "Weel," said the lawyer, taking a pinch of snuff, and 
 evading the question, "ye'll be wonderiu' how I kenned 
 about your family.'' 
 
 " I canna say," answered Hutcheon, " that it has come to 
 me to wonder anything o' the kind, for my family has been 
 to the fore and spoken o', I believe, sin' lang-syne." 
 
 "Achy. Nae doubt, sir, nae doubt. I only was meanin' 
 to indicate that I was able to put my hand on ye, and 
 identify ye as the person mentioned in this letter — bide 
 and ye'll understan' what I mean — because I've heard ye 
 
94 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 spoken o' by my Men', Mr. Sharpe, wha is, I believe, your 
 man o' law." 
 
 " A' the dealin's in law I've ever had, and they're no 
 mony," said Hutcheon, "ha'e been through Mr. Sharpe; 
 that's right enough. Say awa'." 
 
 " Weel," said the lawyer, " this is a letter to me frae my 
 correspondent, Mr. Cochrane, Writer to the Signet in Edin- 
 burgh, wha has had a certain application made to him by 
 his correspondents, Messrs. Sykes & Power of Calcutta. 
 The said Messrs. Sykes & Power ask the afore-named Mr. 
 Cochrane, and he asks me to seek out — these are the words 
 — ' In the village of Ilkastane, near Inverdoon, or, as having 
 been resident in the said village seven years ago, the Master 
 of Hutcheon, commonly known simply as Mr. James 
 Hutcheon.' " 
 
 " Aweel, sir," said Hutcheon, with a touch of impatience, 
 " ye ken I'm the Maister o' Hutcheon. Say awa', sir. What 
 do they want wi' me ? " 
 
 " The afore-named agents in Calcutta ha'e in their hands 
 property o' a Mr. George Hutcheon to the tune o' £30,000 
 and a will o' the same person executed in favour o' his 
 brither James, the Master o' Hutcheon.'' 
 
 " I had a brither, ye said the now. I'll be obliged to ye 
 if ye'll be plain. Is my brither Geordie dead, or livin'? " 
 
 " The agents report," continued Mr. Henderson steadily, 
 " that undeniable evidence is forthcoming that Mr. George 
 Hutcheon died in January in the service of the King of 
 Oudh." 
 
 " Geordie dead ! " exclaimed " The Maister." " Foul fa' 
 the day ! And I ha'ena had a word frae him sin' he gaed 
 awa'. What died he o' ? Do they say? " 
 
 " It is said that he was killed in some sma' disturbance 
 among the natives." 
 
 " Killed ! " exclaimed Hutcheon, grasping his staff. " An' 
 nae kith or kin at hand to help him. It's terrible. An' 
 Geordie never was for flghtin', though he was stubborn and 
 wadna be put down easy." 
 
 '"It's a sad affliction," said the lawyer, peering at him 
 over his spectacles ; " but there's the siller to be seen to. 
 
NEWS PROM A PAR COUNTRY. 95 
 
 Come ben to the fire i' the parlour and ha'e a drap o' com- 
 fort, and I'll read over the haill letter." 
 
 "Ye'll excuse me," said Hutcheon, " but I'll bide here. 
 Among they memento m,oris,'' indicating the black tin 
 boxes, " is the right place for this business." 
 
 "Weel, sir,'' continued the lawyer, "about the siller " 
 
 " Gae 'wa' wi' your siller ! " exclaimed Hutcheon. " I 
 canna speak o' the siller the now. My heart's sair for my 
 brither. Clever, bonny man that he was ! To think that 
 he should ha' gane doon to the grave without a sight o' his 
 ain folk again', or his ain land." 
 
 When he said that, his distracted eye, toiling from 
 meagre knowledge of foreign lands to make out the kind of 
 place and the sort of people where Geordie had died, caught 
 sight of the present fact that the boy (Geordie's son, he 
 thought) was regarding him with open-eyed wonder. Then 
 he bethought him of a pressing question to ask, and turned 
 suddenly to the lawyer. 
 
 " Is there nothing in the will about a woman, or a woman 
 and a bairn?" 
 
 " Nothing, as I understan'," said the lawyer, unable to 
 hide his quickening curiosity. " But had he a woman and 
 bairn dependin' on him?" 
 
 "No," answered Hutcheon grimly, "it canna be said he 
 had, and I but asked ye if there be ony mention o' the like.'' 
 
 " Weel, sir," said the lawyer, " there can hardly be, or 
 it would ha' been named to me ; but we'll be sure o't when 
 Mr. Cochrane sends on to me the copy o' the will that's been 
 sent to him. Now," continued the little man, as if he had 
 at length arrived at the satisfactory point towards which he 
 had been struggling, " will I read ye the haill letter ? " 
 
 " I thank ye," said Hutcheon with a stately kind of cour- 
 tesy, " but I canna hear about the siller the now. Moreover, 
 I've no head for business, and I'll be obliged to ye if ye'll 
 lay the haill matter afore Mr. Sharpe. Ye winna tak' that 
 amiss ? " 
 
 " Na, na," said Mr. Henderson, " Mr. Sharpe's my partic'- 
 lar frien'." 
 
 " And," added Hutcheon, " he's been the frien' and man 
 
96 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 o' law o' my family sin' ever I can mind, and his father was 
 afore him. I thank ye and bid ye good-night. Come awa', 
 Hamish, my mannie." 
 
 And the Master with a sweep set his broad bonnet on 
 his head and swung out of the office, followed by the won- 
 dering Hamish, and by the little old lawyer to see them to 
 the door. 
 
 The Master took the boy's hand and set out on the long 
 walk to Ilkastane. He was hardly conscious of the boy's 
 company, nor did he note, or meditate on, the points of 
 more than local interest that he passed on his way out of 
 the town — the quaint statue of Wallace of EUerslie in a 
 niche of a wall, and the old house with iron-studded door 
 said to have belonged to Mary Queen o' Scots. His atten- 
 tion was filled with memories of the Chartist days when the 
 young, impatient blood of his brother was stirred with the 
 oppression and distress of the people, and when his fresh, 
 eloquent voice rang out over crowds of dour and ill-clad 
 folk. He thought bitterly of the futility of all those wild 
 hopes and demands (Geordie had died alone in a foreign 
 land, and the folk were as they had been!), and he recalled 
 his brother's parting injunction — " Stick to the Cause ! " 
 And he had stuck to " The Cause," though he had found he 
 must interpret the phrase in another sense than that in 
 which Geordie had understood it. Chartism, if not a 
 mistake, had been but a passing phase — a very passing and 
 inadequate phase — of the real Cause, which was the pros- 
 perity and happiness of the folk — their own folk first, and 
 other folk afterwards if they lay in their way. He would 
 have liked to discuss his new views with Geordie, and to 
 have had the help of Geordie's energy and understanding 
 in the attempt to realise them ; but Geordie was dead ! And 
 he would never exchange word with him more ! He was 
 left alone, the last of his race ! No ; not the last — there was 
 Hamish. 
 
 That thought brought his attention back to the boy, to 
 whom he now felt more strongly drawn than ever. He 
 observed that the boy's steps dragged. 
 
 "Are ye tired, my mannie?" asked Hutcheon. " But, of 
 
NEWS FROM A FAR COUNTRY. 97 
 
 course, ye maun be tired wi' runnin' about the lee-lang day. 
 Come on my back, laddie." 
 
 Hamish permitted himself, without a word, to be raised in 
 the strong arms. It was not the first time he had travelled 
 luxuriously on the Master's back, and he now clung round 
 the Master's neck and soon went to sleep. 
 
 Thus burdened, the Master took a new line of thought 
 about his brother. He was troubled and perplexed that 
 Geordie seemed to have made no mention in his will of 
 Kitty; of the boy, of course, there could have been no 
 mention, though he must have known, or, at least, have 
 guessed. Geordie had been- wont to be considerate and 
 honourable in all things, yet here was complete forgetfulness 
 or neglect of an obvious duty. The Master emerged from 
 his perplexity with but one conclusion — that, except what 
 was due to himself for furnishing forth his brother seven 
 years ago, the property of Geordie rightfully belonged to 
 Hamish and should be laid out in trust for him — for him and 
 " The Cause." That gave him a new and heavier sense of 
 responsibility. He must, he felt, act as the boy's principal 
 protector ; he must draw him nearer to himself, not only 
 because he was Geordie's child, but because he was, after 
 himself, the sole remaining representative of the Hutcheon 
 family. He even thought it would be only right to call the 
 boy by the family name ; and he must see that he was edu- 
 cated in a manner befitting his position and prospects. 
 
 Thus, as he went home to Ilkastane by the lower road 
 from Inverdoon, through a poor, densely-peopled region, 
 for a great part of the way, every feature — the " nether " 
 bum shrunk into the middle of its dirty, desolate bed silently 
 hurrying on in its filth and shame to the harbour, the gross- 
 smelling brewery and the deserted saw-mill, the tannery, 
 whose drying-loft with its sheep-skins seen through the 
 open grate-work hanging white and ghost-like would have 
 made Hamish afraid had he been awake, and the Hang- 
 man's Brae, where the Chartists had once resisted the mili- 
 tary — all reminded him of his brother or of " The Cause," 
 and the Master's attention was tossed between the past and 
 the future, between memory and anticipation, between the 
 
98 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 things that had been attempted and that had failed and 
 the things that were still to do and that must be made to 
 succeed. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 HOW THE MASTER TALKED AND o'RHEA SNIGGERED. 
 
 The Master's attention had thus been so much abroad 
 that he had forgotten O'Rhea until he was in the close and 
 approaching his own door. 
 
 " My certy ! " he said to himself. "And he's been locked 
 in all this while ! " 
 
 He then hastened his steps with the anticipation of talk- 
 ing freely over his own and his brother's friend the strange 
 and grievous news he had received. He found the key of 
 the door where he had placed it— under the bass, or mat — 
 and when he opened the door he discovered O'Rhea, with 
 his arms spread on the table and his chin set in his hands, 
 gazing at the lowering fire. 
 
 "Sitting your lone in the dark!" exclaimed the Master, 
 striding forward to light a candle. " But there's no call for 
 that, man. I'm not so poor but I can aye afford a light to 
 lighten the face o' a friend." 
 
 " It is quite right, Hutcheon," said O'Rhea, sitting up ; 
 " it is quite right, my boy. I've been thinking in the dark — 
 I can think better in the dark — I've been thinking of that 
 invention, that ' Whamleerie ' of yours, man." 
 
 " And what o't, Fergus ? " said the Master, lighting the 
 second candle, and turning his eyes on O'Rhea, who blinked 
 in the sudden brilliance. 
 
 "Hallo!" said O'Rhea, discovering Hamish. "You've 
 found the truant, then? — And whaur hae ye been a' the day, 
 bonnie laddie, Hieland laddie?" demanded he of Hamish, 
 with a laugh. 
 
 " Like Sawtan," answered the Master for Hamish, " he's 
 
HOW THE MASTER TALKED. 99 
 
 been going to and fro on the earth, and walking up and 
 down in it. But come, Hamish, my mannie, ye'd better 
 have a piece and go ben to your bed ; it's time for all bairns 
 to be bedded, and the morn's the Sawbath, when it behoves 
 all right-minded folk to be waking betimes. Ye can bide 
 wi' me the night, and. I'll go and tell your grannie that ye're 
 found." 
 
 So Hutcheon set before Hamish a piece of oat-cake and a 
 sup of skim milk, and then turned to go in to the MCrees. 
 
 " I'll be back in a blink," said he to O'Ehea. 
 
 O'Ehea leaned forward, his elbow on his knees, and 
 looked thoughtfully and tenderly at the boy — his own boy 
 eating his supper. He stroked the boy's tousled yellow 
 hair, and felt the stoutness of his arm and the plumpness of 
 his calf. 
 
 " Dinna ! " laughed Hamish. " Ye kittle * me." 
 
 " You're a fine loon for your age," said O'Ehea. 
 
 " A'body says that," retorted Hamish wearily, while he 
 wondered anew at the red hair and freckles of the man's 
 hand, and the scars with which it was scored and jagged. 
 
 '■ I see," sniggered O'Ehea ; " and so ye've been trying to 
 justify your character by wandering off to see the world? " 
 
 Hamish nodded with his mouth full. 
 
 "And what did you see? " demanded O'Ehea. 
 
 " I saw the sodgers come hame frae Eooshia, and Donald 
 M'Kay was ane o' them. He'll be hame in a minute, when 
 he's had his doch-an-something." 
 
 " Oh, he will, will he? " said O'Ehea. " And did Hutcheon 
 see the returned warrior? " 
 
 " He found me wi' them i' the barracks," answered 
 Hamish. 
 
 " In the barracks 1 " exclaimed O'Ehea, with a laugh. 
 " Did you want to be a soldier ? " 
 
 •'Ay," said Hamish, "I'd like fine to be a man o' the 
 sword and aye wear a feather bonnet." 
 
 "A man of the sword?" laughed O'Ehea. "But where 
 did you get those fine words, my boy ? " 
 
 * Tickle. 
 
100 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 "The Maister tauld me them. He said my forefathers 
 were a' men o' the sword." 
 
 " Oh, he said that, did he ? " sniggered O'Rhea. " I sup- 
 pose he ought to know, eh? And what more did he say?" 
 
 " He bought me this book," said Hamish, revealing the 
 Robinson Crusoe, upon which he sat for secrecy and se- 
 curity. 
 
 " This cost a good deal, didn't it?" said O'Ehea, handling 
 the book and opening it. 
 
 " Ay. Half-a-crown," answered Hamish. 
 
 "It's a wonder he could afford so much," said O'Rhea. 
 " He says he has no wealth o' siller." 
 
 "Ay," said Hamish, "that was afore. But he'll be rich 
 now." 
 
 "What's that?" asked O'Ehea with so sudden a grating 
 of his voice, and with such a bang in the closing of the 
 book, that Hamish started with fright. "What do you 
 mean by ' rich now,' my boy? " 
 
 " I dinna ken," said Hamish, " but I heard the advocate 
 tell him." 
 
 " Advocate ? — what advocate ? " demanded O'Ehea. 
 
 " Eound by the Court House, where we ga'ed in though 
 the auld wife didna want to let us in." 
 
 " Never mind the auld wife. What did the advocate say ? 
 What did he say?" insisted O'Rhea with savage hurry, for 
 he heard Hutcheon's step approaching. 
 
 "He said his brither was dead," began Hamish, almost 
 whimpering under such ferocious questioning. 
 
 " Whose brother, idiot ? " demanded O'Ehea. " Whose 
 brother, my boy? " 
 
 " The Maister's," answered Hamish, with half a mind to 
 cry. " And there's a hantle o' siller in Calcutta ; — I heard 
 him say Calcutta : and I ken whaur Calcutta is ! " 
 
 " So it's come at last ! " muttered O'Rhea, smiting his knee 
 with his scarred and hairy hand. " All right, Hamish, my 
 boy," he added soothingly, stroking the tousled hair again, 
 "it's all right. Don't cry. You're a good boy — a capital 
 boy. Remind me to give you a penny to-morrow ; " and 
 with that the Master entered. 
 
HOW THE MASTER TALKED. 101 
 
 " No through your piece yet ? " exclaimed he to Hamish. 
 " Drink up your milk, and take your piece wi' ye, and run 
 awa' to bed, my mannie. It's time all little loons were 
 sleepin'." 
 
 So Hamish rose and went " ben " to the Master's sleeping- 
 room, with the remains of his piece in the one hand, and his 
 Robinson Crusoe in the other, to put under -his pillow and 
 dream of. 
 
 " Well, now, Fergus," said the Master, " I think we might 
 have our bit supper. And we'll have out the grey-beard 
 from the press, for we've need of comfort this night, and I 
 must have a wet whistle. I've a hantle to speak of. But 
 tell me first what ye were thinkin' of the ' Whamleerie,' be- 
 cause I've been thinkin' o't too." 
 
 O'Rhea sharply considered the Master as he put supper 
 on the table. He clearly and swiftly came to the conclu- 
 sion that he would not say such things concerning the Mas- 
 ter's invention as he had intended. 
 
 "Hutcheon, my boy," said he, in his frankest, most 
 jovial manner, "you must let your 'Whamleerie' slide. 
 Give it to the weavers, of course — there's no harm in that 
 — but have nothing more to do with it. It's not fitting 
 that a man of your position should be identified with such 
 a thing." 
 
 The Master sat down slowly and considered O'Ehea's- 
 words. Then he turned his clear eyes on him. 
 
 " I'm not sure, Fergus," said he, " that I ken what ye 
 would be at." 
 
 " Look here, Hutcheon," said O'Rhea, "you're an aristo- 
 crat — you're the Master of Hutcheon— you're one of the 
 noblesse, as the Bailie said to me last night." 
 
 " The Bailie said that ? " asked Hutcheon. " But how 
 came the Bailie to speak of me ? " 
 
 " We spoke of you," said O'Rhea, " in speaking of me. 
 You've made a great impression on the Bailie," he sniggered. 
 " He thinks you a great person, a very great person, in dis- 
 guise, and I did what little I could to deepen the impression. 
 So — so you see, Hutcheon, you must do nothing to spoil the 
 impression, and you would if you began to traffic in wham- 
 
102 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 leeries, and if it were known that you had made them with 
 you own hands." 
 
 " It does not matter to me the twirl of a teetotum,'' said 
 the Master, " what a creature like the Bailie may think of 
 my doings ; and I wonder, Fergus, that ye should suppose 
 that it does. And I am not sure that I like your speaking 
 of me wi' the Bailie." 
 
 " Hutcheon," said O'Rhea, slapping his hand on the table, 
 " mark my words. You'll have to let the ' Whamleerie ' go ; 
 it's not for you, the Master, to potter with. You're going to 
 be great, great enough for a dozen men like me or the Bailie 
 to walk between your legs, and you should do nothing that'll 
 disgrace your greatness." 
 
 " Hoity-toity ! " exclaimed Hutcheon. " Me and my great- 
 ness ! I'll be none the bigger in truth for swelling myself 
 wi' pride ! The pride of my house had a fall like Sawtan's 
 when my forebear came to Ilkastane; it's never got up 
 again, and I'm not the man to withdraw my hand through 
 pride from what I have once put it to ! I'll go through what 
 I intended wi' the 'Whamileerie.' Hear me out, Fergus," 
 said he, raising his hand lightly to silence his impulsive 
 friend. " I'll go through wi' the 'Whamleerie,' but I'll do 
 more because now I have the means. That's what I've got 
 to tell ye o'." 
 
 " Oh, what's that ? " exclaimed O'Rhea, with interest of a 
 well-feigned newness. 
 
 "Fergus," said the Master, " Geordie's dead." 
 
 " What ? " said O'Rhea. " But how do you know ? " 
 
 " I chanced upon Henderson the advocate when I was in 
 the town looking for Hamish, and he told me he had a 
 letter from some writer bodies in Edinburgh that he wanted 
 to read to me. I could not bide, but I said I'd call in a 
 whiley ; and when I'd found the laddie, in I went and heard 
 the letter." 
 
 Then he recounted the contents of the letter, with the 
 comments and explanations of the advocate, mentioning 
 vaguely that the money — a great sum — lay at Calcutta ; 
 and all the while O'Rhea listened with greedy eyes and 
 
HOW THE MASTER TALKED. 103 
 
 " How much? " asked O'Ehea abruptly, when the fortune 
 was named. 
 
 " Twenty thousand pounds," answered the Master. 
 
 "Is that all?" exclauned O'Rhea. "It should be more! 
 — much more ! " 
 
 The Master gazed at him in surprise, and the direct gaze 
 seemed to disturb O'Rhea, who flicked his fingers and said 
 hurriedly : 
 
 " I mean, George should have made more than that." 
 
 "It seems to me," said the Master obstinately, "a gey 
 hantle o' siller ; and it'll take a hantle o' spending." 
 
 "Right for you, Hutcheon," said O'Rhea promptly, 
 " right ; but all the same, George should have got more out 
 of the King of Oudh than that ! But there you are. What 
 did I tell you the other day ? and what did I say a minute 
 ago ? Rich and great, Hutcheon, my boy. Now you can 
 take your proper place, with a proper bearing. Now you 
 can swagger up and down, with a new coat on your back 
 and a cane in your hand and siller in your pouch, like any 
 lord or master of them all." 
 
 The Master considered him again in surprise ; but O'Rhea 
 endured the gaze, and returned it with the frankest, friend- 
 liest openness. 
 
 " But I have no mind," said the Master, " to do anything 
 of the kind, Fergus. Ye mistake me sorely gin ye think I 
 have the smallest liking for busking myself out wi' braws, 
 and swaggerin' on the causey like the birkies I have seen 
 here 'and in Edinburgh. No, man; I'll be grand my own 
 gate. Ye don't object to that, I reckon ? " 
 
 "Not at all, Hutcheon," said O'Rhea promptly, "not at 
 all. It has nothing to do with me, of course." 
 
 " But it has to do wi' you, Fergus ! " exclauned Hutcheon 
 with an emphatic and explanatory sweep of his hand. 
 " Ye're bound by your auld oath, and ye're bound as Geor- 
 die's friend, to help me wi' your counsel to carry out the 
 ' Cause.' " 
 
 " The Cause ! " cried O'Rhea. " What Cause ? There is 
 no Cause now ! " 
 
 " There's the old Cause in a new and better shape, as I 
 
104. THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 have told ye, Fergus. And yeVe got just to do what ye can 
 to help me carry it through." 
 
 " Suppose I say," exclaimed O'Rhea, red and bristling, 
 " that you and the Cause may go to the muckle black de'il ? 
 What then?" 
 
 " Then," said the Master solemnly, " ye're a man for- 
 sworn, and a faithless comrade ! " 
 
 " Hold hard ! Wait a bit ! " 
 
 O'Rhea rose and strode up and down, rumpling his hair 
 and feeling for his beard, and all the floor shook under his 
 heavy tread, while the Master quietly observed hira and 
 crunched his oatcake and butter. At length O'Ehea flung 
 himself again into his seat, nuzzled and snuggled his face 
 into his big hairy freckled hands, and sniggered, sniggered, 
 a good while. 
 
 "All right, Hutcheon, my boy," said he at last, "you'll 
 not find me wanting, by G — d ! No one shall ever say that 
 Fergus O'Rhea failed as a friend, or failed in his oath ! But 
 what's your game ? You must tell me that. How do you 
 propose to see your Cause through ? " 
 
 " Now," said the Master, opening the grey-beard, " that's 
 what I call something like ! Have a drop before we begin." 
 O'Rhea mixed his drop, and the Master went on. " First and 
 foremost the laddie must be provided for, though Geordie, 
 it appears, has made no mention of him." 
 
 " The laddie ?" asked O'Rhea, pausing with his glass at 
 his lips. 
 
 " Hamish," answered the Master. " Ye ken what I 
 mean ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, to be sure I " said O'Rhea ; but he set his glass 
 down, again put his face in his hands, and again sniggered. 
 
 " It amuses ye,'' said the Master with a dark frown. 
 
 "It does, Hutcheon, it does,'' said O'Rhea. "You must 
 excuse me. But certainly Hamish, poor loon, must be pro- 
 vided for. Get him new clothes, first of all, and send him 
 to a good school ; the rest of his fortune can wait. What 
 about other things ? " 
 
 " Next comes the ' Whamleerie,' " said the Master, with 
 his eye steadily fixed on O'Rhea. 
 
HOW THE MASTER TALKED. 105 
 
 "Very well, Hutcheon," said O'Ehea, and sniggered 
 again, " the ' Whamleerie ' be it." 
 
 " Now that I have the means," said the Master, " I think 
 I'll take your advice and patent it." 
 
 " First be sure," said O'Rhea, as with great seriousness, 
 " that you have it all fit, and perfect and complete, wanting 
 nothing for smooth working. Well, Hutcheon, on you go : 
 what next ? " 
 
 "Well, Fergus," said Hutcheon, "there I'm stickit. 
 After the ' Whamleerie ' I see nothing clear ; and it's there 
 I want your advice.'' 
 
 "I can be liberal with advice," said O'Rhea. "I've 
 nothing else I can be liberal with. Oh, dear ! dear ! " 
 he exclaimed, and laid his head down and sniggered 
 again. 
 
 " I just stick,'' said the Master, " to the general notion 
 of getting the folk set free from all outside interference and 
 oppression of bailies and such-like, and keepin' them busy 
 round myself in comfort and obedience." 
 
 "You mean," said O'Rhea, with a loud te-hee, "all 
 the lean, lank, starved and creeshie weavers o' Ilka- 
 stane ? " 
 
 "I mean," said the Master, "them, old and young, that 
 are the bairns of them that aye stood by my forebears in life 
 and in death ! And I'll allow no man to speak ill words or 
 ill-faured words about them in my hearing I — no man, 
 Fergus ! " 
 
 The Master rose and stood with gathered brows and his 
 hands clasped at his back, and looked steadily at the Irish- 
 man, who quickly caught the look and its dangerous mean- 
 ing. With a scarcely perceptible shrug of his heavy 
 shoulders he hitched himself straight in his seat, and 
 shook himself into his openest and most jovial appear- 
 ance. 
 
 " I'm wrong, Hutcheon,'' said he, with a burst of his most 
 taking frankness. " I ask your pardon. I'm out of sorts. 
 I'm in one of my nasty moods, when I must laugh at every- 
 thing, for no reason in the world, my boy, no reason at all 1 
 It's just a fit I have," 
 8 
 
106 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 "Then," said the Master, " we'd better speak of this no 
 more the night." 
 
 " No more to-night, that's the thing," said O'Rhea. " And 
 I think I'll go to bed ; I'm dpg-tired." 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A BROKEN SABBATH. 
 
 Hamish could not sleep. His day's adventures, the 
 Robinson Crusoe under his pillow, with its coloured pictures 
 of Robin's parrot, Robin's self, and Man Friday, and the 
 footprint, and the savages dancing round the fire — these, 
 and his conversation with O'Rhea, had excited him to an 
 unusual pitch of wakefulness. Above all he had been 
 moved by the last thing ; the ugly, hairy hand of O'Rhea, 
 his furious eye and tone, his bristling red hair, and his thick, 
 scornful lips had shaken him with such nameless fears as 
 he had never before known, and he lay broad awake, and 
 shivered in the little trestle bed under the open tiles of the 
 sloping roof. 
 
 He was still awake when O'Rhea entered. The big 
 Irishman, being a kind of honoured guest, occupied the 
 box-bed on the other side of the garret from Hamish's, the 
 Master's being a shake-down at right angles between the 
 two. Hamish lay and watched O'Rhea undress without a 
 candle. Enough light came through the unblinded window 
 in the roof. He was very leisurely about the business. He 
 took off his coat, and sat on the edge of the bed and nursed 
 his knee in meditation. Then he ferociously rubbed his 
 cold shirt-sleeves, and chuckled and laughed with such 
 extreme enjoyment that he exclaimed to himself, " Oh, dear ! 
 dear ! " It seemed to Hamish that O'Rhea's laugh was too 
 small for his size, but yet it frightened him, and he lay still 
 and watched ; but there was nothing more to note then, for 
 
A BROKEN SABBATH. 107 
 
 O'Rliea finished undressing and disappeared in the box-bed. 
 Presently the Master also came to bed, and then Hamish 
 slept. But some time in the night he woke with a start, 
 and sat up. The moon was shining brightly through the 
 skylight, shedding its soft, silvery sheen on the Master 
 asleep on the floor, and just touching, as if scornfully, 
 the end of the box-bed, from which O'Rhea leaned and 
 sniggered. Hamish could see him plainly, though he him- 
 self was unseen — see and wonder at his great, hairy chest 
 (for O'Ehea's shirt was open), and hear him laugh and 
 mutter while he kept his eyes on the form of the Master 
 illumined as with a heavenly glory. Hamish could hardly 
 believe his ears that the big man was uttering such bairn's 
 rhymes and tags as certainly sounded across the garret. 
 
 " ' Nievey-nievey, nick-nack,' Hutcheon," said he, 
 " ' which hand will ye tak' ? ' " And then, " ' Wholes, halves, 
 quarters, inches, all my own,' eh, Hutcheon ? Oh, Master 
 of Hutcheon, you blind-eyed Bartimeus ! " 
 
 And still he leaned on his elbow and laughed low, with 
 his head turned and his eyes on Hutcheon. But suddenly 
 he looked round, bent his brows, and peered through the 
 illuminated space into the darkness, out of which rose 
 Hamish's white face. 
 
 " What ! " he whispered across the gulf of light, " sitting 
 up awake ? By Gor ! You'd better lie down and be off into 
 the land of Nod this minute ! " 
 
 And he disappeared again into the box-bed, and Hamish 
 lay down and slipped away into the land of Nod, where he 
 saw hairy warlocks and sniggering bogles, and where he 
 wandered in terror until morning. 
 
 All three were up betimes, for the Master was an early 
 riser. Porridge was quickly made ; the fire in the other 
 room had been kept alive all night by a block of peat, and a 
 puff or two of the bellows set it in a blaze. When break- 
 fast was over, the Master set off into the town in his best 
 coat and broad bonnet to attend the early service of his own 
 peculiar church ; for though he had little to say of religion, 
 he was a devout man. 
 
 Then the great O'Rhea sat down to have a talk with the 
 
108 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 insignificant Hamish ; and it was curious to note how tlie 
 man addressed the boy, as if he had years as well as discre- 
 tion, being impressed, as all were, by his shrewd eye and 
 considerable stature. 
 
 " I promised you a penny, didn't I ? " began O'Ehea, fin- 
 gering in his pockets. 
 
 "Ay,'' answered Hamish. 
 
 "Well," said O'Rhea, "I'll be better than my word; 
 there's sixpence for you. But we'll put it there " — and he 
 set it on the table between them — " until we've had some 
 conversation. But this is Sabbath morning and I'm going 
 to put you through your carritches first. What's my 
 name ? " 
 
 " Fergus O'Rhea," answered Hamish. " I'll spell it if ye 
 like," he added, with a covetous eye on the sixpence, which, 
 he conceived, was the more likely to be his the more dis- 
 play he made of the calisthenics of school-learning. 
 
 " I'll do without the spelling," said O'Rhea. " And from 
 this moment, my boy, never let my name pass your lips 
 until I give you leave." 
 
 " But I maun ca' you something when I speak to ye," 
 urged Hamish. 
 
 " I suppose you must," said O'Rhea. " Well, now, you've 
 read, I suppose, of the giant that said, ' Fe, fa, f o, fum ! ' 
 You know him, don't you ? Well, I'll be ' Fo.' That's all I 
 permit. And if ever you use my own proper name ! — you 
 know the effect of swearing, and of taking names in vain ? 
 Well, that's what'll happen to you. ' Thou shalt not take ' 
 — you know what — ' name in vain.' " 
 
 "For," began Hamish, to continue the quotation. 
 
 "You have it, my boy," said O'Rhea; "that's quite good 
 enough. Now what's your name ? " 
 
 " Hamish M'Cree." 
 
 "Nothing of the sort!" exclaimed O'Rhea. "M'Cree's 
 not your name." 
 
 " I ha'e nae ither," answered Hamish. 
 
 " No, poor little beggar, you haven't ! " exclaimed O'Rhea. 
 " By Gor ! you haven't ! But you shall have more than a 
 name, or mine. isn't F. O. ! You shall have rings on your 
 
A BROKEN SABBATH. 109 
 
 fingers, and bells on your toes ! Here ! Take up the six- 
 pence ! It's yours 1 You're a good boy ! A capital boy 1 " 
 and he leaned over the table and stroked the boy's hair with 
 his hairy scarred hand, and pinched the boy's ear between 
 his rough forefinger and thumb. " You're a clever boy, 
 and I trust you. I have wonderful things I could tell you, 
 as wonderful as any in your Robinson Crusoe, but if ever 
 you speak of me to anybody, particularly to the M'Crees — 
 to your mother or any of them — if ever you tell again to 
 
 anybody what you hear me say By-the-bye, you were 
 
 awake in the night ; did you hear me say anything ? " 
 
 " ' Nievey-nievey, nick-nack,' '" laughed Hamish. 
 
 " When I said that I had a fit," said O'Ehea, " and I don't 
 like it to be known. So don't you repeat it to anybody — 
 not to the Master or anybody, mind. Tor if ye do, never 
 shall you hear any wonderful stories from me ! And if ye 
 do — well, when I'm in a fit I find out all the people that 
 don't do as I ask them, and I bang them with a club when 
 they're in bed, as the giant did in the story-book." 
 
 At that Hamish looked very frightened, but O'Rhea re- 
 assured and soothed him, and declared that there was 
 absolutely no danger if he were a good boy and held his 
 tongue. 
 
 " You stick to me, my boy," said O'Rhea finally, "' and 
 you'll be all right ; " and though Hamish did not see how it 
 could be all wrong if he did not stick to him — whatever 
 that might mean — he yet thought it was very kind of F. O. 
 to say so. 
 
 Presently O'Rhea, after pacing up and down the floor 
 some time, told Hamish that early in the afternoon, when all 
 the folk would be sitting at their Sabbath broth, and the 
 loan would be clear, he was going to visit Bailie Lepine, 
 and that he might go with him. 
 
 "And young Master Lepine," said Hamish, "promised to 
 lend me a book.'' 
 
 "Oh, he did, did he?" said O'Rhea. "That's all the 
 better." 
 
 Then Hamish ran off home to the M'Crees to be arrayed 
 in his Sabbath best, and the big Irishman was left alone. 
 
110 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 He continued to pace the room, smiling and rubbing his 
 hands. He was evidently at peace with himself ; but that 
 his thoughts were not of the Sabbath order was plain from 
 some of the phrases he muttered to himself. 
 
 " Smart's the word, Fergus. . . . It'll go hard if I can't 
 manage that soft-hearted Hutcheon with his whamleeries 
 and fiddle-faddles. And, by Gor ! the money's as much 
 mine as his ! But first that whamleerie nonsense must be 
 choked off." 
 
 He raised his eyes to the great skylight over the Master's 
 carpenter's bench, and noted the bright blue of the Sabbath 
 morning. A desire to see the outer world took him, and to 
 inhale the fresh air. He climbed upon the bench, opened 
 the skylight, and put out his head. He had a view over the 
 kail and potato patches that lay behind the houses of the 
 loan. Almost immediately beneath him a man in his clean 
 Sabbath shirt-sleeves was walking with decorum up and 
 down in the sun. It was Tamson enjoying the prospect of 
 his small domain and his piggery. A daring idea took 
 hold of O'Ehea. He glanced all around ; no other being 
 than Tamson was visible, and he knew enough of the popu- 
 lation of Ilkastane to be certain they were like other work- 
 ing populations who lie abed on Sabbath morning to make 
 up for their early rising on the other days of the week. He 
 was satisfied he could do what he wished to do without 
 being observed. 
 
 " Hi, Tamson ! " he called. Tamson twirled his eye round 
 and up, and discovered him. " Wait a moment." 
 
 He jumped from the carpenter's bench, found a slip of 
 paper, and wrote on it in pencil, sniggering all the while, 
 " Take this and make a kirk and a mill o't. Get the Bailie 
 to help you to take out a patent. At once, or you will be 
 too late." Then he took one of the completed whamleeries, 
 tied the paper to it, and rose again upon the bench. He 
 looked round to see that no eye but Tamson's was on him, 
 and then he swung the " Whamleerie " out. 
 
 " Catch ! " he called, and flung. 
 
 Tamson caught the thing, and untied and read the 
 paper. 
 
A BROKEN SABBATH. HI 
 
 " I understan'," called Tamson ; " fine, that," and he 
 nodded, and went quickly into his house. 
 
 The Maister returned in the middle of the morning', and 
 having set his frugal dinner on the fire, he left O'Rhea to 
 look after it while he himself went into M'Cree's to set forth 
 his intentions towards Hamish. He found the women of the 
 household in trouble. Kitty was not there. She always 
 kept herself secluded in her garret, with her wandering fan- 
 cies and memories hanging about her like the lint-white 
 dust of her winding-wheel ; but Eppie M'Cree sat by the fire 
 with her younger daughter Elsie. It was plain whence 
 Elsie derived her good looks ; for her mother, though wrin- 
 kled and smoke-dried, gave evidence of having been hand- 
 some. Her form was still erect, her hair was black, and her 
 eyes were bright. Eppie sat with her arms folded, gazing at 
 the fire, on which the family broth was boiling, while Elsie 
 stood with one white, plump hand resting on the mantel- 
 piece, and with the other softly wiping her eyes. 
 
 " Ow, greetin', Elsie ! " exclaimed the Master. " What's 
 gone wrong!" 
 
 " A's gane wrang, Jeems," answered her mother, without 
 looking up. 
 
 " 5it-7i .'" called M'Cree from the other room, where be 
 sat with his newspaper. " Is that you, Hutcheon ? Come 
 ben and let me read to ye a gran' bit o' writin' here about 
 your money-ocrasies, and your arist-ocrasies, and your Royal 
 Fem'lies." 
 
 "Hoot, Saunders!" called his wife, "dinna fash the 
 Maister wi' your balderdash. If ye maun break the Sawbath 
 wi' your Reynold^s, dinna tempt others to do the like. Ye 
 can just steek the door upo' yoursel' and baud your havers.'' 
 
 " Man," said M'Cree, coming forward in spite of his 
 wife's prohibition, with his brass-rimmed spectacles slipping 
 over the hump of his Roman nose, '' there's just a gran' 
 strike gaun on in Brummagem ! Bu-h ! Listen ! " 
 
 " Gae 'wa' wi' ye and your strikes ! " exclaimed Eppie, 
 rising and pushing him ben again. " It would set ye better, 
 ye auld sinner, to be reading a chapter o' First Corinthi- 
 ans ! " and she pushed him in and shut the door, for M'Cree, 
 
112 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 like many another great man, was in subjection to his wife. 
 " What," said she, as she returned to the fire, " wi' a haverin' 
 man and doited dochters, I ha'e nae peace o' my life ! " 
 
 "Hoot, Eppie," said the Master gently, "I'm sure ye ha'e 
 no cause to ca' Elsie names and gar her greet." 
 
 " It's no me gars her greet," answered Eppie, " but her 
 ain fause heart ! " 
 
 "My heart's no fause, mither," protested Elsie, "and 
 He's no fause." 
 
 "Ay, He!" said Eppie. "Just hearken to her! Of 
 course, she maun let a' the warld ken there's a him in't ! 
 I'm sure, what the Lord gi'ed me weel-faur'd bairns for I 
 kenna 1 I'm no swearin', Jeems ! Dinna think it ; for de'il 
 a swear ha'e I in me ! There's Kirsty Kyle and her doch- 
 ters— hard-workin', sonsy bodies— there's no He hangin' 
 about them, and nae clash-pyot tongues waggin' about 
 them ! " 
 
 "They'd like fine if there was, though!" exclaimed 
 Elsie. 
 
 "Weel," said her mother, "I'll aye say there's nae satis- 
 faction in havin' bonnie dochters just to be steered about by 
 men without bein' married ! " 
 
 " He wants to marry me, mither," said Elsie, crying 
 again. " I've tauld ye twenty times ! " 
 
 " Ay ! " exclaimed Eppie again, hugging herself with her 
 crossed arms. " I think I see him ! Na, na ! Catch him ! 
 Gentry dinna marry mill-queans like you, my lass ! They 
 may gi'e ye rings and braws, but they look for the change 
 o't 1 What ha'e ye gi'en him for that ring, ye limmer ? " 
 
 " I've gi'en him naething, mither ! — naething ! " protested 
 Elsie. 
 
 " He's gi'en her a ring 1 " exclaimed Eppie to Hutcheon. 
 "Just gi'e the Maister a look o't! No muokle worth, I 
 reckon ! Just a bit glass and gilded brass, I daursay ! It's 
 no a' gowd that glisters, my lass ! " 
 
 Elsie took from her pocket the ring and gave it to 
 Hutcheon without looking round. 
 
 " It's a braw ring," said the Master. " Gold and dia- 
 monds. " It maun ha'e cost a hantle o' siller." 
 
A BROKEN SABBATH. 113 
 
 " D'ye think sae, Jeems ? " said Eppie, somewhat ap- 
 peased. 
 
 " Wha is this He that gave ye't, Elsie, my dawtie ? " 
 asked Hutcheou gently. " Ye dinna mind telling me ? " 
 
 "Ow, wha ither,'' exclaimed her mother, "but young 
 Mr. Lippen, the Bailie's son and heir ! " 
 
 " The Bailie's son 1 " exclaimed the Master. 
 
 "Ay, just that," answered Eppie. "He's a well-faur'd 
 young man enough, and a genteel ; but it would be better 
 for the lassie to tak' walks wi' a creeshie weaver than \vi' 
 him." 
 
 " Dinna owerstep it, Eppie,'' said Hutcheon. " Hot blood 
 hankers for hot blood, and braw looks attract braw looks." 
 
 "Ay," said Eppie, "and when the t'ane has got t'ither ? 
 Ye ken fine that as the sow fills the draff sours. He'll play 
 at honey-pots wi' her the day, and at the week's end he'll be 
 fair scunnered o' her." 
 
 " Hoot-toot, Eppie,'' said Hutcheon. " The Bailie's son 
 mayna be a canny lad, but he may mean no harm for a' 
 that." 
 
 " He'll do me nae harm, Maister Hutcheon ! " said Elsie. 
 " Mony and mony a time he's tauld me that he would na let 
 a flee light on me. Ow, I ken what ye mean. But he loves 
 me ower weel to let me be joket or made a byword o'." 
 
 "I think, Elsie, my lass,'' said Hutcheon, "there would 
 be less harm if I were to gang and ha'e a crack wi' him, for 
 I daursay the lad wouldna wrong ye." 
 
 " I wish ye would, Jeems," answered Eppie immediately 
 for her daughter. " For Saunders, though he pretends he 
 caresna for the Bailie, is as feared o' him as o' a bogle." 
 
 "But what say ye, Elsie, lass?" said Hutcheon to the 
 girl, drawing himself up, and looking at her with an air as 
 if he would say, " If this lad were not before me I might 
 admire you myself." "Shall I gang to him, or shall I no 
 gang ? " 
 
 " Maister Hutcheon," said Elsie, and she turned round 
 and looked at him with a frank sweetness, " I canna mis- 
 doubt ye, for your kindness is kenned by a'body. Gang if 
 it seems good to ye ; but dinna gang frae me, because I can 
 
114 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 nae mair misdoubt George than I can misdoubt yoursel'. 
 It's only wi' great a-do I liae been able to keep him frae try- 
 ing to mak' a leddy o' me." 
 
 " It's no silks and satins and braws that mak' a leddy, 
 my dawtie," said the Master, with the gentle, firm conviction 
 of one who knew. "A leal heart's mair than birth and 
 braws, though, and ye ha'e that. I'll gang and ha'e a crack 
 wi' him this afternoon, and ye'd better get ye ready for the 
 kirk, for ye ha'e missed the forenoon diet a'thegither." 
 
 "Ay," said Eppie, "as I've been telling her, the Com- 
 munion's coming on, and if she's no seen at the kirk oftener 
 the minister'U no be givin' her the token, and that wad be 
 a fine thing for folk to cast up that she had missed the 
 Tables." 
 
 " I'm thinking, Eppie," said the Master, " that it's mony 
 a year since ye sat down to the Tables yoursel'." 
 
 "It is that, Jeems,'' said Eppie, "but the Lord canna 
 expect muckle o' a wearifu' auld wife like me. It's the 
 young folk He likes to get baud o', eis I understan'. ' Gi'e 
 me thy heart,' says He ; and an auld wife like me has nae 
 heart left. Mairover, I ha'e nae claithes fit to sit down at 
 the Table o' the Lord." 
 
 " Gin I buy ye a silk gown by neist Sabbath, Eppie," 
 said the Master with a smile, " do ye think ye could manage 
 to get out to the kirk ? " 
 
 " Hoot, Jeems,'' said Eppie, " I wouldna impose on ye to 
 do sic a thing, an' silk would be ower braw for me, and it 
 would rin awa' wi' a hantle o' siller." 
 
 "I can afford it, Eppie," said he, "and ye shall have it, 
 for my poor brother Geordie has left me a hantle o' siller, 
 as I ha'e told ye." 
 
 " Aweel, Jeems," said Eppie, " gin ye maun, ye will. But 
 nae silks for me ; I ha'e seen in my ain family what the 
 pride o' braws brings ye till ; ye'U just hain the siller, 
 Jeems, and get me a gown o' merino, and ye '11 put on till't 
 a dacent shawl and a bit o' a bonnet, no ower gran', but wi' 
 a curtain and a red flower, 'cause I'm black mysel'." 
 
 " It shall be as ye say, Eppie," answered the Master, 
 " even to the curtain and the red flower. But there's another 
 
AIMfiE. 115 
 
 thing'. I want ye to let me ha'e the whole charge o' Hamish. 
 He'll bide wi' me, and I'll put him to a good school, and 
 from that he can go to the Grammar School, and syne to 
 College. He deserves it, the laddie ; ye ken what I mean ; 
 he has no father, and I maun be a father to him. We maun 
 speak more o' this, Eppie, another time." 
 
 "A father to the fatherless. Ay, Jeems," murmured 
 Eppie, " ye canna do mair, and ye canna do less." 
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 AIMfeE. 
 
 So it came to pass that there was a considerable con- 
 course at Bailie Lepine's house that afternoon. O'Rhea 
 hurried through his dinner that he might pass down the 
 loan while the doorsteps and the mouths of the closes were 
 clear of gossips. Arrayed in a blue coat and a broad bonnet 
 of the Master's, he set out with Hamish in his Sunday best. 
 
 In a very little while they were out of the loan without 
 being observed (so far as they knew), and pacing along the 
 Burnside to Corbie Ha'. There was a pleasant appearance 
 of a long succession of Sabbaths about the entrance to the 
 Bailie's home. Several fine trees, just beginning to be 
 sprinkled with the green of spring, cast their shadows over 
 the gates, and under them and on all quiet corners and 
 joints of the stone-work a tranquil green mould had settled, 
 clinging with especial affection to the stone leopards ram- 
 pant on either side of the gateway. The great iron gates 
 never seemed to be opened, and grass, thick enough to be 
 almost called turf, grew boldly in the gravel, without dread 
 of wheels or horses' hoofs, or even of gardener's hoe. The 
 narrow side-gate, or postern, by which O'Rhea entered, 
 alone showed signs of use. 
 
 " Bide you here," said O'Rhea to Hamish, when they had 
 
116 THE KING OP ANDAiMAN. 
 
 passed within the gate, '' and watch the birds, till I see if 
 the Bailie is in a good humour, and if your friend, young 
 Mr. Lepine, is in." 
 
 And Hamish was left standing under a sombre fir, listen- 
 ing to the shrill chirp of the sparrows busy with their 
 nest-building, and the soft, confidential caw of the rooks 
 similarly engaged in the tops of the elms. He stood thus 
 listening and waiting, and imagining the noble rooms of 
 Corbie Ha' and the palatial staircase down which he had 
 seen a fairy princess descending, when on chancing to turn 
 his head to follow the flight of a sparrow he discovered 
 a young lady, with a wide flapping hat on her head — his 
 very princess, he believed ! — observing him from behind 
 a laurel bush. Perceiving she was discovered, the young 
 lady came forward with a glorious smile that lit up her 
 countenance and made her seem still more of a fairy prin- 
 cess than before. She spoke, and how soft and sweet her 
 voice was ! — like that of the great flute the Master cherished, 
 and on which he sometimes, but very rarely, made discourse 
 a sad Scots air. 
 
 " Are you waiting for your father ? " she asked. 
 
 "Yon," said Hamish, pointing after O'Rhea, "is no my 
 father. Yon," he continued, "is O'Rhea," he was going to 
 say, but remembering the secrecy enjoined upon him by 
 that terrible person, he said, "yon's F. O. — Fo." 
 
 " Fo," she laughed. " That is no name. You are a droll 
 boy. Let us walk this way, and we shall easily see your Fo 
 when he goes out," and laughing again — a fresh ripple of a 
 laugh that made Hamish desire to laugh too — she took his 
 hand. 
 
 How different her little white hand felt from any hand 
 Hamish had ever held before, and how broad and coarse his 
 speech sounded compared with hers ! 
 
 "Do you go to school ?" she asked, with a smile which 
 showed her small, white, even teeth. 
 
 " Ay,'' answered Hamish, " I gang to the school ; " and 
 then he was ashamed again of his Scottish speech. " I learn 
 Grammar and G'ography now," he added, attempting to say 
 the words English-wise. 
 
AlMfiE. 117 
 
 " You know where Paris is, then — and Edinburgh ? " she 
 said. " I have been to school in Paris and in Edinburgh, 
 and now I have come home, not to go to school any more. I 
 have been away a long, long time at school. If I had not 
 been away so long at school I might have talked like you. 
 I ought to talk like you, because I'm a Scots lass — at least, 
 half a Scots lass." 
 
 Her eyes were bright, and her countenance shone with 
 her wonderful smile. 
 
 " Ye're no a lass," said Hamish, "ye're a leddy ; and ye 
 speak finer than we speak." 
 
 " You're a droll boy," said she, with another merry ripple 
 of laughter. She led him by the hand away over the turf, 
 in and out among the trees, and asked him his name and his 
 age, and was surprised, as all were, that he was so young. 
 " You are a very nice, droll boy," she repeated. 
 
 "They ca' me auld-f arrant," said he, with a sad smile, 
 which made her laugh still more, so that he became bolder, 
 and laughed too, and ventured to raise his eyes to look at 
 her. But when she stooped and kissed him he was ashamed, 
 he knew not why, and did not dare to look at her again ex- 
 cept when she was not looking at him. At length he had 
 looked his fill, and yet he would have found it hard to say 
 what she was like, except that she had dark red curls under 
 her hat, bright eyes that seemed now brown and uow a 
 golden yellow, and a red, laughing mouth with white teeth ; 
 for little boys like Hamish see in women only the angel 
 face shining upon them, like the cherub heads that hover 
 about the Holy Babe in old pictures. 
 
 "What's your name?" he was at length bold enough 
 to ask. 
 
 "Aimee Lepine," she answered, and spelt for him her 
 Christian name. " Do you like it ? " 
 
 " I like it fine," said he. 
 
 "But," she asked suddenly, looking out towards the 
 avenue of approach to the house, " who is this big man with 
 a bundle in his hand ? " 
 
 " Yon," said Hamish, " is Hew Tamson, that keeps the 
 pigs." 
 
118 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 "But surely," she laughed, "he does not take a pig— not 
 even a little pig — to my father to-day ? " 
 
 And at that Hamish laughed too. 
 
 " And," said she a moment later, " here is another great 
 man — a handsome man with a red beard! Is everybody 
 coming to see my father to-day ? Who is he ? " 
 
 " Oh," said Hamish, " yon's the Maister." 
 
 " The Master ! Master of whom ? master of what ? " 
 
 Then Hamish began to pour out all he knew and felt 
 about the Master's greatness and goodness, about his clever- 
 ness and his wealth; and Aimee Lepine listened at first 
 with smiling curiosity and then with serious interest, until 
 she had made quite a romantic and princely figure out of 
 the Master's presentment as set before her by the boy. 
 
 In the meantime the Master followed Tamson into the 
 house, for the same reason that the King followed the old 
 woman — because, that is, the old woman went before — and 
 when he was admitted into the hall he saw Tamson waiting 
 with a bundle under his arm, without suspecting what the 
 bundle contained. 
 
 " What, Hew," was all he said, pointing to the bundle 
 with his knotty staff, " ha'e ye come trocking on the Sab- 
 bath day ? " 
 
 "Weel, Hutcheon,'' answered Tamson, in a voice that 
 sounded as well sanded as his wife's floor, "no just a'the- 
 gither trocking; but, whatever, 'the better the day the 
 better the deed.' " But he shifted his bundle under the other 
 arm, and furtively watched the Master with his red piggish 
 eyes. 
 
 " Ay, Hew, but ye didna learn that from your mither, or 
 the minister," said the Master. 
 
 "Maybe no, Hutcheon — maybe no," answered Tamson. 
 " But neither my mither nor the minister kenned a'thing. 
 And I ha'e learned frae the Bible mysel' that the Sabbath 
 was made for man, and no man for the Sabbath ; it's a pity 
 to be ower muckle fashed wi' times and seasons. There's 
 naething- wrang, I believe, in learning that frae the Bible 
 itsel' ; and Paul himsel' says, ' Be not righteous overmuch.' " 
 
 " Does Paul say that, Hew ? " said the Master. " It doesna 
 
aim£e. 119 
 
 sound like him. But ye ken, Hew, it's said the de'il himsel' 
 can give ye screeds o' Scripture for his own ends." 
 
 " Sae I've heard said, but some folk mak' gey free wi' the 
 de'il. And after a', Hutcheon, what are ye doing here 
 yoursel' ? " asked Hew, with a grin, and something of a 
 snarl. 
 
 " I'm here on a work o' charity and mercy. Hew," an- 
 swered the Master, " and ye ken that's lawful on the Sabbath 
 day." 
 
 "Mister George, sir," said Jaques, shuffling up to Hutch- 
 eon, "will, see you, if it please you to com' this way." 
 
 So Hutcheon left Tamson waiting to interview the Bailie, 
 while himself went on serenely after Jaques, suspecting no 
 evil, up the soft-carpeted, broad-stepped stairs into what a 
 young man in these days would call " the den " of young 
 George Lepine. And it was a grievance with the jealous, 
 piggish Tamson that his better had been more promptly 
 received by him whom he had come to seek than he. 
 
 Young George had heard enough of the Master of 
 Hutcheon — from his sweetheart and from his father — to 
 render him polite and curious when the great man came 
 seeking an interview. He had expected to be face to face 
 with a rather loud, eccentric person, and he was agreeably 
 surprised to encounter a man wlio, though large, imposing, 
 and picturesque, was suave and courteously spoken. The 
 Master, on his part, had thought of George Lepine with 
 some prejudice. He had not been able to dissociate him 
 from the Frenchman, his father, the destroyer of the hand- 
 loom, the oppressor of the weavers ; and therefore he had 
 expected to find a young coxcomb who would have to be 
 brought to his senses and made to understand that he was 
 not free, merely for his own amusement and pleasure, to 
 disturb the maiden fancy and happiness of even the hum- 
 blest daughter of Ilkastane. When he stood before George 
 and looked upon him he saw a well-dressed, good-looking 
 young man, surrounded by books (though the Master was 
 not a bookish man he regarded books with respect), and 
 when he heard George speak he forgot his half -foreign 
 origin, and began to think of him as a douce Scots lad. 
 
120 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 "I am pleased to see ye," said George, "for I have often 
 heard of the Master of Hutcheon. Will ye not sit down ? " 
 
 " It's the Sabbath," said the Master with a light wave of 
 his hand, " but the bit business I ha'e come upon will not 
 wait." He took the seat offered him, and closed his hand 
 on the head of his knotty staff. " It's a private matter con- 
 cerning yourself and a lassie that is a far-away kind of 
 friend of mine." 
 
 '■ Yes ? " said George, with something of a start and an 
 involuntary blush. 
 
 " I ken fine," said the Master, " that when a lad and a 
 lass are taken up with one another they just think that no- 
 body kens it but themselves ; that's aye the way. They're 
 so taken up, like twa doos on a gable, that they forget alto- 
 gether their ploys must be seen. It's yoursel' and Elsie 
 M'Cree that I mean by the twa doos. Ye'll not deny that 
 ye ken Elsie ? " 
 
 " I'll not deny that I ken Elsie — no," answered George. 
 
 '' And ye'll not deny more than that — that ye have had 
 trysts and walks with her, and that ye have gi'en her a 
 ring ? " 
 
 George blushed very red ; he looked at the Master and 
 shifted in his seat. 
 
 " You're asking questions, Mr. Hutcheon," said he, " ques- 
 tions that ye must excuse me if I do not answer just at once. 
 Has Elsie sent ye to me ? " 
 
 " I see," said the Master. " Ye're in your right to ask for 
 my authority to interfere in other folks' affairs — to hash, 
 maybe, other folks' weft ; but I had thought ye kenned me 
 to be the Master o' Hutcheon, with delegate authority to take 
 tent of all that concerns my folk, big or little, young or old. 
 But," said he, pushing that plea aside with a broad sweep of 
 his hand, " I'll not insist on that with ye ; I'll but put it to 
 ye that Elsie has no man body to take her part but me. Her 
 father is an orra, blethering kind of creature that nobody 
 minds ; so her mother, who has had a hantle of trouble with 
 her daughters, poor body, just asked if I would step round 
 and see ye. And, moreover, Elsie kens I've come. So now, 
 lad, I hope ye see yourself free to speak and answer me." 
 
ATMfiE. 121 
 
 George muttered tliat lie would be pleased, nay, hon- 
 oured, to advise with the Master of Hutcheon'on the matter 
 of Elsie. 
 
 " But," said he, nursing one foot across his knee, and 
 caressing his neat instep, " ye will understand that I am 
 rather shy about discussing things that I had thought were 
 secret betwixt Elsie and myself." 
 
 " See what I say ! " exclaimed the Master. " A lad 
 thinks that if his wooing is kenned it must have been 
 told ! Nobody kens how it's kenned. It's seen. A gliff 
 of the e'e at one time, and not a gliff at another, tells 
 folks what ye're after, till it's common clash that a lad's 
 courting a lass. Just the other day at the dinner-skaling 
 of the mill — deevil take it ! — I came upon the mill-queans 
 — the limmers I — taunting Elsie about you aiid garring her 
 greet ! " 
 
 " The low, saucy wretches ! " exclaimed George. 
 
 " Ay, man," said the Master, drawing himself up, " maybe 
 so ; but ye see that's what ye ha'e brought on the lassie — 
 flouts and scorning, the like of which a decent lassie cannot 
 bide." 
 
 George nursed his foot and looked down, and the Master 
 waited for him to speak. 
 
 "You mean," asked George, "that those girls wei-e ac- 
 cusing her of " 
 
 "Ay," answered the Master, "just that, of being your 
 light-a-love. They say that as plain as words can make it. 
 But," he added at once, in answer to George's quick flush of 
 shame and anger, " I would not lightly believe such a thing ; 
 though, sorrow to me, I ken ower well when lad and lass 
 are together the young blood runs hot in the veins, and the 
 head often goes." ■ 
 
 "Mr. Hutcheon," exclaimed George, " ye will believe me 
 that I had no notion that such things could be said about 
 Elsie, and that I'm not so mean as to take advantage of the 
 ignorance and the innocence of a lassie that loves me well 
 and trusts me fully. Elsie's a noble girl, and we've opened 
 our hearts to one another in all honour and understanding 
 — but no more. Ye believe me ? " 
 
122 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 George's burst of sincere eloquence had its effect on the 
 Master. 
 
 " I believe ye, man, of course," said he. " And it's not to 
 reproach or miscall ye I have come — God forbid ! — but to 
 see where we are wi't, and to come to an understanding. 
 The lassie's in an unco position, and things cannot go on as 
 they have been going." 
 
 " I know that," answered George readily enough, " and 
 Elsie knows it; but I don't quite know what to do." 
 
 " It's as plain as porridge what ye must do, lad, Having 
 gone so far, and made the lassie's good name be called in 
 question, there's but one thing for a lad to do that would 
 wish to behave like a gentleman — he must give the lassie 
 his own name. But,'' said he, on a sudden touch of suspicion 
 and anger when he saw George doubtfully caressing his 
 instep and writing upon it with his nail, " maybe ye're no 
 thinking of marrying ? Maybe ye were only thinking of 
 having a bit fun and daffing ? " 
 
 " No, no, Mr. Hutcheon," said George promptly, "ye mis- 
 take me. Of course I want to marry her ; what else should 
 I court her for ? But there are difficulties in the way. 
 There's Elsie herself, and there's my father. I doubt ray 
 father would be very angry if I went to him this moment 
 and said I wanted to marry Elsie." 
 
 " Though," said the Master, bending on him a keen look, 
 " ye're well enough matched, except that ye have some more 
 book learning than Elsie, and a hantle more siller. But 
 your fathers were about even ; for if your father has the 
 more siller, he'd have never made it here but for Saunders 
 M'Cree." 
 
 " That's quite true, I daresay," answered George, wincing, 
 in spite of his love for Elsie, that his father should be set 
 by the Master on the level of M'Cree. "But yet, sir," he 
 continued, " my father would think that he could not have 
 a mill-girl for a good-daughter." 
 
 " And yet," said the Master, " your father biggit the mill 
 that' he'd despise her for working in! Well, now," he con- 
 tinued, " I'm free to tell ye at once that I dinna care a but- 
 ton what the Bailie would think ! I look upon your father, 
 
AIM6E. 123 
 
 lad, as deserving no kindly feelings from me ! He's one of 
 they trading and trocking chields that grow fat on the 
 needcessities of poor folk ! " and he straightened himself up, 
 with his nose in the air, as if he would strike down the 
 object of his dislike. 
 
 " I know," said George, with a sour but deprecatory smile, 
 " that ye think, Mr. Hutcheon, that my father deserves to be 
 hung beside his mill ; but ye cannot expect me to think so. 
 My father is my father, and I depend on him and the mill." 
 
 " Ay, there it is. Ye'd better be a man and come out o't, 
 and there'd be nothing between you and Elsie but the hon- 
 est earning of a living." 
 
 "That is out of the question, I doubt, Mr. Hutcheon," 
 said George, shrewdly. "Mill work is sure to grow more 
 instead of less, and I can do more good by staying in than 
 by going out." 
 
 The Master perceived that that was likely, especially if 
 the young man should marry Elsie. She might help to 
 deliver the folk from their bondage to the Bailie. 
 
 " Ye want to marry Elsie, but not at once ; that's how I 
 understand ye ?" said he. 
 
 " That's about it," answered George. 
 
 "But that," said the Master, "would just be to leave 
 things as they are, all snorled and ravelled," and he shook 
 his head. 
 
 "Please, hear me out, sir," pleaded George. "I don't 
 propose to go on as before.'' 
 
 He explained what we already know, that he had sug- 
 gested to Elsie that she should leave the mill and put her- 
 self to school, so to say. The Master shook his head again, 
 and doubted that Elsie would not like that because of the 
 expense it would entail on her lover ; and then George set 
 forth an alternative plan — that Elsie should enter Corbie 
 Ha' as companion to his sister, who had just returned from 
 school, and by contact with her and with such teachers as 
 might be arranged for, be furbished in manners and educa- 
 tion, in which way also she would make the acquaintance 
 of the Bailie and win upon him. 
 
 " That's a likelier gate than the other," said the Master ; 
 
124 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 "but ca' canny. Are ye altogether sure of yourself and of 
 Elsie ? " 
 
 They discussed the matter, and George had no thought 
 of keeping anything back of either his love or his hope from 
 so sympathetic a counsellor as the Master. The Master won 
 liis complete confidence ; and together they agreed that 
 Elsie, if she were willing, should enter Corbie Ha' as com- 
 panion to George's sister, and that George, during her pro- 
 bation, should behave as little like her lover as he could find 
 it in him to do. George was delighted that matters had 
 been brought to so pleasant an issue under the auspices 
 of a person whom he could not but regard as armed with 
 authority. 
 
 "I'm sure, Mr. Hutcheon," said he effusively, "Elsie and 
 I have to thank ye for your interest in our concerns — have 
 to thank ye very much indeed." 
 
 " Say no more, man," said the Master, " say no more. As 
 for Elsie, it's nothing less than my duty, for I reckon myself 
 bo,und before God Almighty to look after the folk — lads and 
 lassies and a'." 
 
 George considered him, and wondered at his earnestness. 
 "And now," said he, "you must be introduced, Mr. 
 Hutcheon, to my sister, for she'll have to help us in this." 
 
 He left the room to find his sister, and returned to say 
 she was somewhere in the garden. Would Mr. Hutcheon go 
 with him to seek her ? So together they went out, and 
 came upon Aimee leading Hamish about by the hand, and 
 talking and laughing with him. 
 
 " What the sorrow are ye doing here, laddie ? " exclaimed 
 the Master when he saw him. 
 
 " Oh," exclaimed George, " this is my young friend, who, 
 I remember, promised to come and borrow a book of me 
 to-day." 
 
 Then, after having introduced the Master of Hutcheon to 
 his sister, he explained how he had made Hamish's acquaint- 
 ance. But the Master had no ears for the explanation ; he 
 was wholly taken up with the bright and winsome vision of 
 the fairy girl who was so unlike any lass he had ever seen 
 before. And Aimee, on her part, was at once taken with 
 
now THE MASTER DID i\^02'TAKE OUT A PATENT. 125 
 
 the tall and serious figure of the great man with the authori- 
 tative name and the authoritative look, with his clear grej'- 
 blue eyes, his pointed red beard, and his commanding nose 
 that made her think of old pictures she had seen of princes 
 and warriors. 
 
 When by-and-by the Master and Hamish went home 
 together, they talked of her, and the Master learned her 
 name correctly. 
 
 " Aimee," said he ; " ay, she's a bounie bird." 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 HOW THE MASTER DID NOT TAKE OUT A PATENT. 
 
 The Master and Hamish returned home in the expecta- 
 tion that O'Rhea would follow them when it grew dark, so 
 that he might run no risk of discovery by the elderly gossips 
 about the Ilkastane loan and the mouths of the closes. 
 There was little likelihood of his recognition by the younger 
 generation after seven years' absence on one side and change 
 on the other. Darkness came, but no O'Rhea, so that the 
 Master began to grow anxious. 
 
 " I fear me," said he to himself, though Hamish could 
 hear, " that Fergus has gotten himself bitten again by the 
 mad dog that's aye been at his heel." Seeing the wonder 
 and alarm on Hamish's face, he added, " I mean, laddie, 
 that he must have satten down and stuck there to pree the 
 Bailie's French brandy, though it's no to be compared wi' 
 good Scots usquebagh. The Bailie, as I understand, was 
 gey couth and cosy wi' him the other night." 
 
 " Ay," said Hamish, " they spak' the Bailie's aiu language 
 thegither ; he tauld me it was French." 
 
 "He? Wha's/ie, laddie?" 
 
 " Him," answered Hamish, " that ye ca'd Fergus, but I 
 maunna name him." 
 
126 THE KIXG OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 " That's riglit ; it's as weel to leave him as nameless as 
 the De'il. But French, I daresay, it would be," said the 
 Master. " Ay, Fergus was aye a clever chiel', though I didna 
 know he could gabble French. I only hope his French and 
 his Bailie majiia lead him, afore he kens, into the clutches 
 of the Fiscal." 
 
 He was on the point of setting out to seek O'Rhea, when 
 a step sounded on the creaking stairs, the sneck was rattled, 
 and a voice sounded without. 
 
 "Are ye in, Jeems ? Here's a havering, doddering 
 creatur o' a foreigner speiring for ye." 
 
 The Master opened the door and saw Kirsty Kyle. 
 
 " Is that yoursel', Kirsty ? And wha's that yeVe got wi' 
 ye?" 
 
 " Wha should it be, Jeems ? " asked Kirsty. " Wha ither 
 but Bailie Lippen's bowing body tying his bit tongue in a 
 French knot wi' speiring for the Maister o' Hutcheon ? 
 And on the Sabbath day, too. What for canua they foreign 
 folk speak like reasonable beings that ken their Bible ? 
 De'il a Bible amang them, I daresay. Naething but Popish 
 images and pictures, as I've heard the minister tell. Ay, 
 John Knox was the billy for them." 
 
 "I t'ank you, madame," said the limp, melancholy 
 Jaques, bowing to Kirsty. 
 
 "Na, na, man; dinna madam me,'' said Kirsty. "I'm 
 nane o' your French madams. I'm just an auld Scots wife 
 wi' a braid Scots tongue in my head." 
 
 "Gae 'wa', Kirsty, gae 'wa'," said the Master, waxing 
 impatient, " and dinna vex the man wi' your havers. He's 
 a stranger, Kirsty, and ye should be more civil to a stranger 
 than to your ain folk." 
 
 " Ay, Jeems,'' answered Kirsty drily. " Weel, weel ; 
 but tak' ye care o' French Papists ; though, sorra till me ! I 
 was forgettin' ye're something o' a Papist yoursel', being o' 
 the gentle persuasion." * 
 
 "Ay, Kirsty," said the Master, bending on her one of 
 
 * The Episcopal form of religion was called by the old-fashioned " the 
 gentle persuasion," because it was much affected by the gentry. 
 
HOW THE MASTER DID NOT TAKE OUT A PATENT. 127 
 
 his severe looks, "'ye'd better let that flee stick to the 
 wa'." 
 
 "Weel, weel, Jeems, ye want your say wi' the man," 
 said she, descending the stairs slowly. "It's a pretty 
 evening ; the stars are blinking out, and the moou'll be up 
 in a whiley." 
 
 " Ye want to speak to me," said the Master to Jaques 
 when Kirsty was gone ; " come in." 
 
 Jaques glanced about him with a politely veiled sur- 
 prise. Could that be the abode of so great a man as le 
 Maitre cTHutcheon f — that bare garret, with a carpenter's 
 bench, where the only touch of splendour was a silver 
 candlestick with a wax candle 2 Yet had he not heard of 
 great lords of France, whom the Revolution had made very 
 poor— «o poor that they had been compelled to live how they 
 could and by whatever handicraft or occupation they could 
 pick up ? Perhaps these rude Ecossais had also had their 
 Revolution. Therefore Jaques was exceedingly polite and 
 deferential to the Master of Hutcheon. 
 
 "■ M'sieii le Maitre,^' said he, bowing low, '' M'sieu le 
 Bailli send me to bear his compliments and to inform 
 M'sieu le MMfve that the gi'oss gentleman, the friend of 
 M'sieu le Maitre, will remain to couch in the house of 
 M'fiieu le Bailli." 
 
 " You mean,'' said the Master, " that my friend will not 
 come back here the night? " 
 
 "Yes, M'sieu le Ma'ifre," answered Jaques; "the gross 
 gentleman will not return here this night." 
 
 " I thank ye for coming with the message," said the 
 Master. " And now ye'll permit me to offer ye a tass of 
 usquebagh to 'liven ye, for Kirsty Kyle's conversation and 
 conduct are just a wee bit weary and waeful." Jaques 
 bowed and looked wistful, as if not quite understanding 
 what had been said. But the Master poured him out a glass 
 of usquebagh, and continued, " Our folk here are gey rough 
 and rude — gey uncivilised — but they mean no harm." 
 
 "Oh, ISrsieu le Maitre," said Jaques with his thin smile, 
 " your people are not gay ; they are lourd. But what 
 would you, M^sieu le Maitre i This is a difficult country 
 
128 THE KING OP ANDAMAN". 
 
 to live in ; it is a country of stones and wind and rain." 
 And Jaques with another bow took off his 'livening glass. 
 
 "Ay," said the Master, "ilka man to his own. Ye'd like 
 your own French country better than this, I daursay." 
 
 "Oh, M^sieu le Mattre,''^ answered Jaques, "I love to 
 think of my country, it is' true. France! La belle 
 France .' " he interjected, and shed a gentle tear. " But also 
 I love this country. I have been here many years — many, 
 many. I was prisoner of war with M'sieu le Bailli, and I 
 have stay with him all the time.'' 
 
 " Ay, ay, just that,'' said the Master, pulling his mous- 
 taches. " Even the Bailie has folk that stick to him." 
 
 "And," continued Jaques, impelled by the 'livening 
 effect of the usquebagh, "this your country, M'sieu le 
 Maitre, is not always disagreeable ; sometime the sun shine. 
 Then I say, ' Via le soleil ! Je suis heureux ! ' Pardon. 
 I wish to say, M'sieu le Mattre, ' Here is the sun ! I am 
 happy ! ' " 
 
 Jaques took his leave, but that saying of his kindled a 
 flame in the Master's mind. " Voila le soleil ! Je suis 
 heureux — Here is the sun ! I am happy ! " The Master was 
 not a man of speculation and he dreamed with difficulty ; 
 but he had heard a saying which provoked his fancy and 
 stimulated his thought. To give his folk sunshine, or to 
 take them into it, proved to him to be the meaning of all he 
 had longed and hoped to do for them. He loved his folk, 
 and he had made sacrifices for them ; he had worked for 
 them and had contrived for them with such means as were 
 to his hand, somewhat blindly, perhaps — or, at least, with a 
 limited horizon ; he had helped and guided them, and so he 
 had ruled them, as he conceived God had set him to do. 
 Now the chance phrase of the old Frenchman suddenly 
 illuminated the prospect, raised him as on a hill-top of con- 
 templation, widened the horizon, and showed him a land of 
 Beulah. 
 
 " Ay, ay," he said to himself, " we want the sun ! " 
 
 In that thought he slept and' waked, and passed Monday 
 in his usual occupations. In his brother's fortune he felt 
 more and more strongly he had a powerful means of action. 
 
now THE MASTER DID ^OT TAKE OUT A PATENT. 12'J 
 
 and he dreamed many dreams of what might be done. And 
 though these shifting dreams produced then no distinct 
 vision for realisation, they made his mind prompt to seize 
 such suggestions as were soon to be offered it, as sun and 
 wind and shower ferment the earth and prepare it for seed. 
 
 In the evening, when it was dark, O'Rhea came to re- 
 move his handful of traps to the cottage which the Bailie 
 had let to him. He sat down a while and talked, for he was 
 curious to learn whether Hutcheon had formed any plans 
 for the expenditure of his fortune. He still harped on the 
 greatness of the position which the Master might assume, 
 on the self-aggrandisement he might derive from so much 
 money, till the Master was ashamed and angry that ho 
 should be so misunderstood. 
 
 " It's a pity, Fergus," said lie, " that ye should ken me so 
 little. I never was a bleezing chield, and what for should I 
 break out now ? Ye did not use to be slow at the uptake. 
 I had thought ye'd understand me, and give me your good- 
 will and the fousion of your soul and body in whatever we 
 might undertake. For I will say that for ye, Fergus — yeVe 
 just a deevil of a steam-engine to gar a thing birr when 
 once ye take up wi't." 
 
 "Well, now, then, Hutcheon," said O'Ehea, spreading 
 himself on the table to listen with a business-like attention, 
 a little alarmed at the Master's tone of offence, but more 
 mollified by his praise, " what is it ye really want to do ? " 
 
 "I'm for one step at a time, Fergus," said the Master, 
 " and I must get out at the door before I close the door be- 
 hind me. Well, so I must have the ' Whamleerie ' fixed, 
 thread and thrum, before I think of anything else. Now 
 ye spake the other night of the needcessity of a patent to 
 make the thing go smoothly on in the hands of the weaver- 
 lads, and so now that I can afford it a patent I'll have. 
 Ye're a chield that has been up and down and about the 
 world ; ye ken a routh of things that I ken nothing of, and 
 I am depending on you to tell me how to get this patent." 
 
 O'Rhea knew that Tamson had been closeted with the 
 Bailie the day before, and he guessed that they must have 
 taken already the necessary steps for making the invention 
 
130 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 of the " Whamleerie " their own ; if they had not, it was 
 their own fault. He could not damage his reputation with 
 the Master by holding him back any longer from giving 
 effect on his part to the invention. If his desire was not 
 already fulfilled of destroying the Master's interest in the 
 thing, and so of keeping his money and attention for. other 
 schemes which he designed to set before him, then it never 
 would be fulfilled, for he had no mind to risk a quarrel with 
 the Master over so small a matter. 
 
 "Well, Hutcheon," said he, leaning forward with an 
 earnest look of business activity, "you must first write out 
 your specification — an exact description of every part of 
 your machine and the purpose of it, with drawings — on a 
 sheet or two of foolscap." 
 
 " 'Deed ! " exclaimed the Master, " it'll be a fool's cap to 
 me ; for it'll stick me to write an exact screed of anything, 
 forbye making strokes and apperzands of pictures. But can- 
 not I set somebody on to do it for me ? " 
 
 " I tell you what, Hutcheon,'^ said O'Rhea, seeing a chance 
 of delaying the business, " ye had better take it to your law- 
 yer, to draw up the specification and see the whole thing 
 through. That's the way. It'll cost ye little, and the billies 
 in his office are trained to set things down so that there 
 should not be a single mesh in the words that a creature 
 could get through." 
 
 So it came to pass that next morning Hutcheon took one 
 of his whamleeries and went into Inverdoon to call on 
 Sharpe, his family lawyer. He explained the purpose of 
 his invention and showed its working, and Sharpe engaged 
 to draw up tlie specification, and to see the business through 
 with the Patent Agent. Next day he received a copy of 
 the specification, in order that he might make objection if 
 the description was not exactly set forth ; but the invention 
 was so simple that it was scarcely possible to go astray 
 in its description, and he accordingly sent the specifica- 
 tion back, with the note that it was correct. On the sec- 
 ond day thereafter he received an intimation from the 
 lawyer that there seemed to be some difficulty about 
 effecting the patent, coupled with the request that Mr. 
 
HOW THE MASTER DID AOT TAKE OUT A PATENT. 131 
 
 Hutcheon would call. Hutclieon, therefore, again visited 
 the lawyer. 
 
 "Weel, Mr. Hutclieon," said Sharpe, "the fact is ye seem 
 to be forestalled wi' your invention. The agent tells me he 
 has undertaken a thing just the identical fac-simile o' 
 youi-s." 
 
 "But, man," said the Master, "that's not possible I I 
 have never seen anything like it ; it's contrived all out of 
 my own head." 
 
 " Weel, weel, Mr. Hutcheon," said Sharpe, " vo'd best step 
 round wi' me to Mr. Hornbeam, the agent." 
 
 So they stepped round to Mr. Hornbeam's. When they 
 made known their errand, Hornbeam at once informed 
 them that a patent for exactly the same invention — with 
 this difference, that it was intended for use on both hand 
 and power looms — had been applied for on Monday in the 
 name of Bailie Lepine. 
 
 " And, for that matter, Mr. Hutcheon," said Hornbeam, 
 "here's a timber model o' the thing." 
 
 " But," exclaimed Hutcheon, when he had looked at the 
 model, "that's mine — my very own — made with my own 
 hands 1 " 
 
 " Ay, man ? " said Hornbeam. " And the Bailie says it's 
 his ain. There's a bonny case, Mr. Sharpe. Will ye mak' 
 a plea o't ? Will ye tak' it into court ? Will ye fight it, 
 man ? " 
 
 " Fight ! " exclaimed the Master, grasping his staff, all 
 the angrier that he saw his protestation of right even to the 
 Bailie's model was scarcely believed even by his own man of 
 law. " Fight at law ! A chield contrives some gate to steal 
 my property — a thing I've made with my own hands ! — and 
 his agent and factor up and says, 'Will ye fight ? Will ye 
 prove at law that it's yours, and wear your siller, just to give 
 me a bit job ? ' To the de'il, man, wi' your law, your pleas, 
 and your cases, your quillets and your quodlibets ! I have 
 neither tiine nor siller nor patience to wear on your law and 
 your patents and your specifications ! The Bailie is a thief, 
 and if he will not render to me without law what's my own, 
 I'll take it out of the skin o' him." 
 
132 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 He struck his iron-shod staff on the floor and marched 
 out, leaving the two men of law trembling with their " quil- 
 lets and quodlibets.'' 
 
 " Eh, hut he's an awfu' man ! " cried Hornbeam to his 
 neighbour. 
 
 " As quiet a chield as can be," observed Sharpe, shaking 
 his head, " till his dander's up. But he'll no take his reme- 
 diuni juris, I doubt." 
 
 The Master marched home, seething with indignation. 
 He entered his garret and went to the corner where his 
 whamleeries were piled. He counted them, and counted 
 again. He had made ten, and there were only eight ; one, 
 therefore, had been stolen, and the Bailie had stolen it ! He 
 did not descend from his height of resentment to inquire by 
 what secret means the Bailie had spirited a copy of the 
 whamleerie out of his garret. He was not a detective ; he 
 was not concerned to prove the theft through its stages ; it 
 was enough for him that the Bailie possessed what had been 
 stolen, and claimed it as his own. He therefore set his 
 blue bonnet more securely on his head, and, still grasping 
 his stafE, set out for the Hargate Mill. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE END OF THE "WHAMLEERIE." 
 
 As on a former occasion, he told the lad in the oifice to 
 say to the Bailie that the Master of Hutcheon wished to 
 speak with him, and the Bailie hurried forth and with great 
 politeness invited the Master to enter. A young lady rose 
 from a chair near the Bailie's desk. 
 
 "Permit me, sir," said the Bailie, "to present to you my 
 daughter. She has just come home to her father from 
 school in France." 
 
 The Master doffed his bonnet and stood with his hands 
 
THE EXD OF THE " WHAMLEERIK" 133 
 
 on liis statf, and his head inclined a little towards the young 
 lady. 
 
 " I have seen your dochter before, Bailie," said he, 
 " though only once ; but I'm not likely to forget her." 
 
 Aimee thought that a quaint, unusual, but pleasant kind 
 of compliment, and she blushed and smiled. 
 
 " Yes, papa," said she, " I met the Master on Sunday after- 
 noon, and George introduced me." 
 
 "Ah, Old" said the Bailie, nodding and pursing his lips 
 in .some puzzlement, " it is quite correct. Will you sit, sir ? " 
 
 " Weel, Bailie," said the Master, refraining from a seat 
 for the moment, " I would like to have a private word with 
 ye — a word that might not be fit for a young leddy's hear- 
 ing." 
 
 "Aimee, ma chere" said the Bailie, "you will sit in 
 George's room for a few minutes till monsieur's business is 
 finish." 
 
 " Old, papa," answered Aimee, and withdrew to an inner 
 room, where her pretty head was still visible through the 
 glass of the partition. 
 
 ''She's a bonnie, winsome bird," said the Master to him- 
 self, unable to keep his eye from referring to that gracious 
 head, and taking account of it. 
 
 " Well, sir," said the Bailie with a smile of resigned po- 
 liteness, " what ? — is it the prices of the weavers again ? " 
 
 "Na, Bailie,'' answered the Master, "it's no that." He 
 did not go on at once. He was puzzled with his own feel- 
 ing ; he had come with piled-up indignation, and now he 
 felt that his indignation had sunk, as a castle of sand sinks 
 when the incoming tide creeps up around it. He looked at 
 the Bailie in the reflected light of that gracious head within 
 the glass partition, and he found it hard to believe that the 
 father of the " bonny bird " had committed so mean an 
 offence as that he stood in his mind convicted of. " It's a 
 doom's wonder to me. Bailie," said he at last, "how ye 
 could do such a thing, for ye do not look like it — I must say 
 that." 
 
 " Monsieur ? " exclaimed the Bailie, with a considering 
 twirl of his eye. 
 
134 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 " It's just this, Bailie," said tlie Master. " I, with my own 
 hands, make a ' Whamleerie ' — a bit sliding boxie with 
 shelves to fit on to the weavers' lays, so that they may weave 
 stripe without shifting shuttles out of the lay. I set about 
 getting a patent for the thing, when, lo and behold ! I'm 
 told that some other body is a day or two before me with 
 the identical same thing ! " 
 
 The Bailie tightened his lips and looked watchful. 
 
 "Now, wha d'ye think, Bailie," continued Hutcheon, 
 " that other body is 2 " 
 
 " Oh, it is me, of course,'' said the Bailie, with a light 
 wave of the hand. 
 
 " Ay, Bailie, ye're just the very man. Now, I tell ye 
 flat. Bailie, when I heard that, I was in a rage, for your 
 ' Whamleerie's ' my 'Whamleerie,' made with my own 
 hands.'' 
 
 " What, Monsieur le Maitre ? " cried the Bailie. " You 
 mean, sir " 
 
 " I mean this, Bailie : The very model that your agent 
 got from you was made by me, with my own hands. I 
 made ten — yours is one of the ten." 
 
 " Oh, sir, but this is nonsense you say ! It is not pos- 
 sible ! " cried the Bailie, becoming well-nigh frantic, and 
 beating off with his fat hands the thought that something 
 which he had considered his was on the point of slipping 
 from him. 
 
 ■' It's gospel truth I tell ye. Bailie, whether ye ken it or 
 no. Do not contradict me, Bailie ; do not anger me, for I'm 
 not to hold or to bind when once I'm angered." 
 
 The Bailie saw the Master's nose — that nose which so im- 
 pressed him — seem to become more threatening, and his eye 
 to glow with subdued fire, and his heart at once became pa- 
 cific, though it remained wary. 
 
 " No, no, sir," said the Bailie. " Excuse me that I say 
 so. But now, sir, listen. I will tell the whole matter — all 
 of it, because I always try to do fair. I am not responsible. 
 I did not make the invention. Another make the invention, 
 or say he make it, and bring it to me, and I buy it with what 
 you say 'siller' — heaucoup d' argent.'''' 
 
THE END OP THE " WHAMLEERIE." 135 
 
 " And wha, Bailie," asked tlie Master, grasping his staff, 
 " was the man that brought ye the thing ? " 
 
 " Truly, sir," said the Bailie, " I do not know that I can 
 tell." 
 
 The Master felt his wrath rise, but he had another glimpse 
 of the gracious head through the glass partition, and his 
 wrath was assuaged. 
 
 " Hoot, toot. Bailie ! " he exclaimed. " If we're to under- 
 stand one another, all the truth, and nothing but the truth, 
 must lie spread between us. Who's the man ? " 
 
 " 'Well, Monsieur le Maltre," said the Bailie reluctantly, 
 drumming the while on his desk, " the man is Hew Tam- 
 son." 
 
 " Oh, Tamson's the thief, is he ? And by that token, now 
 that I bethink me, he brought ye the thing in his hand on 
 Sabbath afternoon, did he no ? " 
 
 The Bailie blinked, but he was bound to admit that that 
 was true. He was distressed, for he could not guess what 
 this terrible person with the commanding nose would do. 
 
 " It is a simple thing, the invention, sir," said he some- 
 what feebly. " Perhaps it happen that Tamson invent it at 
 the same time as you, Monsieur le Maitre. Eh ? Think 
 you not so ? " 
 
 " Hoot, Bailie ! I can tell my own handiwork, and I tell 
 ye your model — the thing ye got from Tamson's hands — was 
 made by me." 
 
 "Ah, oui. Well, Monsieur le Maitre,'''' said the Bailie 
 cheerfully, endeavouring to stave off a conclusion, "we 
 must see what is to be done. I will question Tamson, the 
 villain ! Yes, I will question, inquire, and then we will 
 talk." 
 
 " I'll talk no more about it. Bailie," said the Master. 
 " And as for Tamson, do not ye fash about him. I'll deal 
 with him. Ye have bought the thing, Bailie, and paid for't, 
 and so it must be yours." 
 
 " I thank God," said the Bailie with the effusion of relief, 
 " that it will not break me if I do lose the money.'' 
 
 " Do not thank God, Bailie," said the Master severely ; 
 " thank the De'il ! . For all this buying and selling, and 
 
13G THE KING OF AXDAMAN. 
 
 trockiiig and thieving is Deevil's work ! " But at that mo- 
 ment he caught anotlier glimpse of the gracious head of the 
 " winsome bird," and it smote him with compunction that 
 he was not treating her father with enough consideration. 
 " But I have done ye wrong, Bailie. I crave your pardon 
 for thinking ye kenned of the thieving." 
 
 " Oh, Monsieur le Maitre" exclaimed the Bailie, with a 
 supple bow and a light wave of the hand, " it is nothing. 
 And, voyez, sir, I tell you what I will do, sir. I will give 
 your weavers the things, when they are made, for nothing ! 
 — nothing ! " 
 
 The Master received that burst of generosity calmly, if 
 not sadly. 
 
 " I doubt they'll do them little good, since they cannot 
 have them all to themselves, as I intended." 
 
 He rose to depart, and had a fuller view of the gracious 
 head. 
 
 "Well, sir, well," said the Bailie, "I am sorry, but you 
 
 see " He jingled the money in his pocket, and pursed his 
 
 lips. "We are neighbours, Monsieur le Maitre," he added 
 suddenly, " so let us be friends — eh ? " 
 
 " I have no mind to quarrel, Bailie," said the Master 
 quietly, " no mind at all. But now I must go my ways. I 
 wish ye good-day, Bailie." And he put on his bonnet and 
 strode out. "Ay, ay," said he to himself when in the open 
 air, " it's the sun we want, and it's the sun we must have 
 now.'' 
 
 " Ah, that is a gentleman," said the Bailie, opening the 
 door of communication with his daughter— " a gentleman 
 truly, voyez-vous. And if he look poor he is not. What ? 
 To lose some thousand of pound— to abandon what make 
 much money— pif !— it is nothing to him !— nothing at all ! 
 Aimee, ma chere, it is necessary that we ask Monsieur le 
 Maitre to dinner." 
 
 Meanwhile Monsieur le Maitre strode homeward with a 
 severe brow. As he walked, he balanced his heavy stafP 
 and considered it; it had no suppleness, and he shook his 
 head and continued his way. He ascended to his garret, 
 and rummaged till he found a very supple black switch, 
 
THE END OP THE " WHAMLEBHIE." 137 
 
 whole, unwoven, and much more terrible than the heaviest 
 riding whip. It was about the skaling time of the mill, and 
 he went out with the whip in his hand and slowly ascended 
 the loan to meet the work-folk on their way to dinner. At 
 the top of the loan he halted, as on the border of his own 
 jurisdiction. While he waited there came along the old 
 soldier, the one-eyed Steven, in company with the Crimean 
 veteran, Donald M'Kay. Both looked as if they had had 
 the sun in their eyes. Donald solemnly strutted with the 
 regulation swing of his kilt, an'd Steven, with his trousers 
 tied up below the knee, in his habit as he sat at his loom, 
 strutted in unison, as if he had donned the kilt anew. They 
 were passing without noting the Master, when on a sudden 
 thought he called them. 
 
 "Steven! Donald!'' 
 
 " By Gosh ! " exclaimed Steven, halting and observing 
 him who called. " It's the Maister himsel' ! " And he raised 
 his hand in military salute. " It's the Maister,'' he re- 
 peated, aside to Donald. " Salute, min ! salute ! " And Don- 
 ald saluted. " It's a bonny day for the neaps," he remarked. 
 " This blink o' sun'll bring them on." 
 
 " Steven ! " exclaimed the Master with some severity. 
 
 " Maister ! " answered Steven, standing to attention. 
 
 " Ye've been at the whisky ! " 
 
 " By the Lord Harry, Maister," protested Steven, " just a 
 mutchkin atween's, in honour o' my chum here hame frae 
 Rooshia — a sodger o' Raglan's, by Gosh ! Just a sook to 
 weet the whistle ! — naething but a tot to fill a thummle ! — a 
 drap to kill the worm in the stamach ! That's a', by the 
 living Jingo ! Isna't, Donald ? " 
 
 "Nae mair than would mak' a flee fou'," murmured 
 Donald solemnly. "The first drap I've had since yestreen." 
 
 "I want ye, Steven,'' said the Master, "you and Donald, 
 to do something.'' 
 
 " Right y'are, Maister, by Gosh ! " promptly responded 
 Steven. " We're your men. Eh, Donald ? " with a fiery 
 wink to the Crimean veteran. 
 
 "I've got a reckoning to make wi' Hew Tamsoii," said 
 the Master, " and I'm going to count the reckoning wi' this," 
 10 
 
138 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 shaking the whip. " Ye'U hear the reason in good time. 
 I'll stop him when he comes along, and ye'll stan' aside him 
 and hold him, if there be need, the while I explain the 
 business. Will ye do't ? " 
 
 " Fine, that, by Gosh ! " said Steven. " Eh, Donald ? " 
 
 "Brawly, that, Steven," answered Donald. "I mind 
 Tamson. He's a slinking blackguard. Gin I had my begnet 
 at my hip I'd gi'e him a job wi' good-will." 
 
 " We want no begnets, Donald," said the Master. " I 
 wouldna blaud a begnet wi' him. Here come the lads and 
 lasses frae the mill." 
 
 As the workers straggled up — the young men with linen 
 jackets, and the young women with tartan shawls over their 
 heads — the Master stopped them, and begged them to " bide 
 a wee," he had something to say to them. They waited and 
 wondered, and to pass the seconds joked with Steven and 
 Donald, the former of whom shook out of his one glowing 
 eye encouraging winks to the lasses, stroked the ringlets 
 trained before his ears, and jutted out to as much advantage 
 as possible his noble calves. 
 
 Presently Tamson appeared, and the Master stepped for- 
 ward. 
 
 " Hew Tamson," said he, "I've a word to say to ye." 
 
 Tamson stopped and looked around him with quick 
 glances of wonder and of suspicion, while Steven and 
 Donald took their places one on either side of him. 
 
 "Say awa'," said Tamson. "But what for are you lads 
 and lasses no at your kail ? " 
 
 The lads and lasses made no answer. Their attention 
 was curiously fixed on the Master, who seemed to grow 
 taller as he faced the tall and bulky Tamson with his hands 
 behind him. 
 
 "Hew Tamson,'' said he, "ye're a common thief! a mean, 
 creeping, damnable thief ! I ha'e been working lang on a 
 contrivance to help the weavers to weave stripes without 
 taking out their shuttles, and ye ha'e stolen't, and sold it to 
 the Bailie, and the Bailie has ta'en out a patent for't. — Ye 
 understand me," said he, looking round upon the lads and 
 lasses. . " Ye're a' sons and daughters o' weavers, and ye 
 
THE END OP THE " WHAMLEERIE." 139 
 
 can guess what a help the contrivance. would be in weaving 
 stripe ; and ye'll soon see't, for the thing will be fitted on to 
 your power-looms. Weel, I meant it only for your fathers' 
 hand-looms, to mak' the stripe work quicker and better, and 
 Hew Tamson there, the traitor ! has stolen it frae the hand- 
 looms and gi'en it ower to the power-looms. I might prove 
 at law that it's mine, but I winna spend precious time — 
 weeks, months, and maybe years — and bags o' siller on 
 proving that what's mine is my own. I cannot be fashed 
 wi' the law. I take my own lawing." 
 
 " What for do ye hearken to sic havers ? " snarled Tam- 
 son, turning away. " He's clean daft ! doited, my certie ! 
 But what's this ? " he exclaimed, for, on his attempting to 
 move away, Steven and Donald had laid hands on him. 
 
 " Hew Tamson," said the Master, " ye've betrayed your 
 ain folk and stolen frae them what would ha'e made their 
 lays ca' blither. Ye've robbed wives and weans o' bit and 
 sup, and I'd be only in my rights if I hanged up the great 
 slab o' a body o' ye for craws to peck at. I canna do that, 
 but I've got to read ye a lesson. Down wi' him ! " 
 
 Steven and Donald with great address gave a sudden 
 twist to Tamson's arms, so that he was compelled to stoop 
 in an ignominious position, and the Master began to lay on 
 with the bull's whip. Tamson roared, " Let me go ! let me 
 go!" mixed with the vilest and most opprobrious names 
 and epithets. He sank to his knees, amid the silent laughter 
 of the lads and lasses, but he was still compelled to stoop, 
 and the whip still whistled in the air and sang and whacked 
 upon his back. At length his roaring sank into groaning, 
 and agonised grunts of " Oh, my back ! Oh, my poor back ! 
 Oh, he's killing me ! He's murdering me ! " 
 
 At length the Master stopped. 
 
 " Lead him hame,'' said he, " and shut him inside his ain 
 door." 
 
140 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 "VOILA LE SOLEIL." 
 
 After that singular and humiliating punishment admin- 
 istered to Hew Tamson by the Master, the folk waited, on 
 the qui vive for a sequel, for something to happen in the way 
 of retaliation. Nobody thought that Tamson would literally 
 return blow for blow, but everyone expected that he would 
 have the law of the Master. The folk, however, did not 
 clearly understand the matter at issue, or they would have 
 guessed that, if Tamson were truly guilty — as he was be- 
 lieved to be — of the theft the Master laid to his charge, the 
 last thing he would do would be to go to law and incur the 
 risk of a searching inquiry into all that had led to such a 
 consummation. One day passed, and another ; both Tamson 
 and the Master went out and came in before the watchful 
 eyes of all the folk in the loan, but Tamson did nothing, and 
 the Master gave no heed, and the folk were disappointed. 
 Tamson's wife, indeed, talked loudly at first to her gossips of 
 what she and her husband might have done in certain cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 " He kenned better," said she, speaking of the Master, 
 " than lay a hand on Hew atween the jambs o' his ain door. 
 Gin he had done that, I'm tauld he would ha' been guilty o' 
 hamesucken, and that's a mighty offence against the law, 
 and the law would ha' had him on the hip, as sure as 
 death ! " 
 
 " But ye'd ha' kaimed his head wi' your ten talents, Meg, 
 I'se warrant," sneered Kirsty Kyle, " afore the law could lay 
 a finger on him ! " 
 
 " Na, Kirsty, woman," said Tamson himself in his smooth, 
 dry voice. " Meg's no to baud or to bind in a common way, 
 but she kens better than to raise her hand against the Maister 
 o' Hutcheon. We respect him ower muckle ; that's our 
 fau't," he insisted, with his red, piggish eye on his wife, 
 as if to admonish her to keep silence before Kirsty, who was 
 likely, he thought, to report all she heard to the Master. 
 
"VOILA le soleil.-' 141 
 
 " We respect liim by ordinar', and thougli he has mista'en 
 me and misused me, I freely forgi'e him, as the Book com- 
 mands; and I'd harm him nae mair than if he were the 
 Lord's Anointed." 
 
 " Gae 'wa' wi' ye, Hew ! " exclaimed Kirsty, taking her- 
 self oflf. " Ye're just a bletherskite ! 'The Lord's Anointed,' 
 quo' he ! " 
 
 There were few who believed in Tamson's forgiveness, 
 though all were fully possessed of Tamson's prudence. 
 
 "Bu-h-h!" said M'Cree, when the gossip was retailed 
 among the weavers. " Mark my words — I'm no addicted to 
 leeing — Tamson'll hain that up — he'll no forget it. It's a 
 lang worm that has nae turning." 
 
 " By Gosh ! " exclaimed Steven, casting violent winks 
 around, " and it's Hew Tamson that's the lang worm ! By 
 the Lord Harry, it is ! " 
 
 So the days passed and Saturday came, when there was a 
 scene in the weaving shop which banished Tamson's affair 
 from attention, and introduced to all with whom we are con- 
 cerned what was destined to be the crowning interest of 
 their lives. The Master sat engaged in one of his beneficent 
 occupations. Girt about with an apron, he sat in the midst 
 of Loudon's loom " twisting " Loudon's web — attaching, that 
 is, with nimble finger and thumb, each individual thread of 
 the new to each individual thrum of the old. The dark and 
 damp weaving-shop, smelling of earth, batter, and dressed 
 webs, was silent save for the thin voice of Hamish, who 
 alone kept the Master company, and read to him from Rob- 
 inson Crusoe. The Master, however, seemed to give but 
 half his attention to the reading ; the other half was absent, 
 for his twisting needed it not, and his eyes, with little specu- 
 lation, roamed round among the dim, silent looms, or gazed 
 through the patched little window opposite him into the 
 bright sunshine, and away over the kail and potato patches 
 to a tall steeple of the town which stood up against the sky. 
 And still Hamish read on with his eyes glued to the page 
 of the prince of desolate-islanders, and the Master dipped at 
 intervals finger and thumb in his little boxes of chalk and 
 powdered rosin, and continued twisting thread with thrum. 
 
14-2 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 Presently voices were heard in the close, heads passed 
 the window, and there entered the weaving-shop O'Ehea, 
 Steven, and the soldier M'Kay. All three had evidently 
 been tasting freely the wine of the country, and while 
 Hamish brought his reading to a halt and gazed on them, 
 they stood and solemnly gazed upon Hutcheon and observed 
 the snap and twist of his nimble fingers. O'Rliea was in 
 a bitter, cynical mood. He had been haunting the Master 
 for days — ever since he had cast aside the " Whamleerie " — 
 expecting to hear something of what was next to be done ; 
 he had listened to all the gossip that was going, had laughed 
 loudly and slapped his leg when he was told that Tamson 
 had spoken of the Master as the "Lord's Anointed," and 
 had noted the seriousness and silence, the absent-minded- 
 ness, or thoughtfulness of the Master, and then in impa- 
 tience had turned away and recklessly cast himself into the 
 company of Steven and the Crimean veteran, who were 
 seeing the week out together with brotherly kindness over 
 all the mutchkins and drams they could compass. 
 
 " And to think," said he, watching the Master's nimble 
 finger and thumb, "that that hand, those fingers, should 
 be gripping a weapon — a sword or a gun ! Lord ! Lord ! 
 What would his fighting forbears think to see the Master 
 of Hutcheon at this hour twisting a creeshie weaver's web ! " 
 and he laughed, " Te-he-he ! " 
 
 The Master's spirit dwelt serenely above all opinion save 
 that of O'Rhea. O'Rhea he regarded as a man of knowl- 
 edge and understanding ; besides that, he had been a valued 
 coadjutor of his brother Geordie, and therefore O'Rhea's 
 adverse criticism piqued and angered him, the while he re- 
 sented it as grossly founded and as too often running coun- 
 ter to the trend of his own views and ambitions. On this 
 occasion the Master, struck in his dearest foible, was angry 
 beyond his wont. He ceased his twisting and raised his 
 head, with flaming eye and open nostril. In the strong, 
 assured, scornful voice of conviction and authority he spoke. 
 
 "Fergus,'' said he, "do not presume to judge of what's 
 beyond ye ! There's nothing a gentleman can demean him- 
 self by doing or by being, except by oppressing or giving the 
 
"VOILA LE SOLEIL." 143 
 
 go-by to the folk the Almighty has put under his charge, or 
 by being a coward or forsworn ! But ye do not understand 
 they things, and therefore ye should not meddle with them ! 
 — because ye're not a gentleman. Ye're just a fiery, flaming 
 lump of common red clay. Ye have your uses, and ye have 
 a kind of understanding — ye have hot blood in ye, and ye 
 have a head on your shoulders — but ye're not a gentleman. 
 Do not presume, therefore, to say what a gentleman should 
 be or do I " 
 
 O'Rhea's eyes wavered a moment and his red face took a 
 touch of greyness, but his show of heartiness and joviality 
 asserted itself. 
 
 " By Jove, Hutcheon ! " he exclaimed, looking and speak- 
 ing in his frankest manner, " ye're right, quite right ! I ask 
 your pardon 1 " and he stretched to the Master his great, 
 hairy, freckled hand. " I'm not a gentleman, I admit ! I'm 
 just a common, gross beast sprung from the soil — the mixed 
 soil of bonnie Scotland and old Ireland 1 I did wrong to 
 judge the conduct of a gentleman.'' 
 
 " By the Lord Harry ! " exclaimed the delighted Steven, 
 " the Maister's right, Donald, man," he repeated, shaking 
 out a rapid wink at his crony, " he's right ! A gintleman's 
 aye a gintleman, though he hasna a sixpence to stan' a frien' 
 a dram ! By the muckle black De'il he is ! " 
 
 "Of course he's right," said Donald. "They're baith 
 right ! We're a' right ! So let's ha'e another mutchkin, for 
 auld langsyne, my dears ! " 
 
 " To h — 11 with your mutchkins ! " exclaimed O'Rhea. 
 " I've tasted too much of your mutchkins. And now I'm 
 going to be shaken out of my bones by ague, if I don't take 
 care ! The fit's coming on me ! Feel those fingers of mine, 
 Hutcheon, my boy! It's the awful jungle fever waking 
 in me ! " 
 
 " Ha'e another mutchkin," urged Donald ; " it'll drive it 
 into the open, knock it down, and settle it. There's nae- 
 thing like a dram for the shivers ! " 
 
 "I'd like a warm, and a smoke — my own particular 
 smoke," said O'Rhea, looking at the brown fire-eaten grate. 
 " That would drive it oflp . Here, my boy," said he, turning 
 
144 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 to Hamish, " here's a shilling. Get some shavings and peat 
 and coals, and let's have a fire." 
 
 " Put up your siller, Fergus," said the Master, rising from 
 his occupation. " We can make a bit flre without wearing 
 siller.'' 
 
 The Master himself brought some shavings and sticks, 
 and a piece of glowing peat from his own room upstairs, 
 and Hamish brought coal from the coal-hole under the 
 stairs, and soon there was a bright fire burning, which 
 speedily sucked up the damp, earthy smell of the weaving- 
 shop. The Master re-seated himself at his twisting, Hamish 
 sat in silence, with his finger in his book, and the three 
 visitors seated themselves about the fire, gratefully spread- 
 ing their hands to the blaze, for the keen air of spring was 
 made sufficiently chill by the damp of the long low work- 
 shop. 
 
 "A low in the lum," said Donald, " is a bonny thing ; it's 
 as bonny, and friendly, and cosy a thing as I ken. I mind 
 when we was in the trenches " 
 
 " It's not so bonny as the sun," said the Master, glancing 
 through the window ; " it would be better for us all to be 
 out in the sun there than to be hunkering round a bit blaze 
 of peat and coal. Ay, ay," said he, as if in labouring 
 thought, " it's the sun we need for light and heat and all ! " 
 
 O'Rhea raised his head, and turned and looked at the 
 Master. Had he not often heard him say something of that 
 kind lately ? What did he mean by it ? What was he 
 thinking of ? 
 
 " And what's the book you're reading, my son ? " said 
 O'Rhea, holding his hand to Hamish. " Let me look." 
 Hamish handed him Robinson Crusoe, while he gazed at 
 the great hairy legs of Donald, and wondered that they 
 should look so much liker the limbs of a tree than the limbs 
 of a man. " Robinson Crusoe, eh ? " said O'Rhea, as if he 
 had forgotten that he had looked at the boy's book before. 
 
 " Ah, ha ! " exclaimed Steven. " Hamish is the boy. He's 
 a don at the books. He's the loon for the uptak' ! He sticks 
 to the learning like a partin ! By Jingo he does I " and he 
 spat with energy in the fire. 
 
"VOILA LE SOLEIL." 145 
 
 " And just to think," said O'Rhea, opening the book, and 
 running the leaves from under his thumb like a bookish 
 man, " that in seven years I've seen more than Robin Cru- 
 soe in his whole life. Crusoe ! I could give them, boy, 
 stuff enough to make twenty Crusoes ! — a hundred Crusoe 
 books!" 
 
 Hamish opened his eyes in voracious curiosity, and 
 O'Rhea, handing him back the book, took certain things 
 from an inner pocket. He cut very small a piece of light- 
 coloured tobacco, took from a little brass box embossed 
 with strange figures a soft black globule or pill, rolled 
 tobacco and pill together between his palms, and put the 
 preparation in a black pipe with a long, jointed stem. Then, 
 crouching towards the Are, he lit the pipe with a glowing 
 stick of wood, and smoked, seating himself on the step of 
 the loom of Donald's father. Not a touch or movement had 
 escaped Hamish, for there before him was a live Crusoe, 
 and the bluish-brown, sickly-scented smoke was redolent of 
 romance. The lightest touch on the spring of the imagina- 
 tion, and, hey, presto ! that red-haired man with the hairy, 
 freckled hands was clothed in chimerical skins, with a gor- 
 geous parrot over him, a melancholy dog by his side, and 
 terrific visions of black men like demons haunting the 
 background. 
 
 "How would you like, boy," asked O'Rhea, turning 
 suddenly to Hamish, " to sail away to seek adventures and 
 to make your fortune ? though, by George ! the more adven- 
 tures the less fortune ! Lord, the books I could fill chock- 
 full with my stories ! and every word true, mind ye — every 
 word ! " 
 
 " Robinson Crusoe 's true," said Hamish. 
 
 " Oh, is it, my son ? " sniggered O'Rhea. 
 
 " Ye can easy see that," said Donald, " if ye read on to 
 the end. If the man wins hame it'll be true ; if he winsna 
 hame it's a lee, for how can folk ken a' about it if he winsna 
 hame to tell ? " 
 
 " Arena the black folk," asked the Master, " in they 
 countries ye ken o', sore hadden down, oppressed, and 
 massacred by bloodthirsty tyrants ? " 
 
146 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 " Most of them, Hutcheon, iiiy boy," said O'Ehea, with a 
 certain smack of bitterness, " a world's sight better off than 
 poor brutes of Irish peasants, or English labourers — yes, by 
 God ! or than Scotch weavers working in damp, dark holes 
 that smell like graves, and feeding on porridge and sowens, 
 sowens and porridge ! " 
 
 " Sowens," said Steven, " on a cauld night are no to be 
 sneezed at ! By Jingo, they're no ! " 
 
 " No cold nights where I mean, Steven, my lad — not any 
 at all," said O'Rhea. And," he continued, turning and flash- 
 ing on the Master a sudden thought, " the sun, the sun you 
 keep hankering after — the sun shining all day and every 
 day — never too hot and never too cold, but always sweetly 
 and softly wrapping you about, as ministers say of the love 
 and mercy of God." 
 
 '■ And whaur's that ? " asked Hutcheon, pausing in his 
 occupation. 
 
 "In the islands of the ocean — the Golden Hesper- 
 ides!" 
 
 There was silence for a moment or two ; none but 
 O'Rhea knew anything, or had heard anything before, of 
 these islands. Hutcheon had heard of the Hebrides, but 
 they could not be meant; and O'Rhea gazed at the Are 
 and slowly sucked his pipe, the bluish-brown smoke of 
 which twirled and writhed and spread over their heads, and 
 the sickly pungent fumes of which agreeably assailed the 
 nostrils. 
 
 "Ah,'' he resumed, in a gloating, long-drawn murmur, 
 and with a relaxative shiver of desire, " to lie in the rustling 
 shade of the trees and eat the fruit that drops into your 
 hand and that dissolves in your mouth like ambrosia, the 
 food of the gods. To listen — no, not to listen to, but to 
 hear the chirp and call of brilliant birds, and the buzz and 
 hum of insects as brilliant and almost as big as birds, with 
 the bright, bright sunshine all around, with the soft breeze 
 blowing — no, no — breathing, gently breathing from the 
 fresh blue sea, touching and tickling your cheek like down ; 
 to see along the beach the rare, dusky beauties sporting and 
 swimming in the dancing, sparkling waves ! " 
 
"VoilA le soleil." 147 
 
 " By the Lord Harry ! Eh, Donald ? " exclaimed Steven, 
 with a nudge to his crony. 
 
 O'Rhea did not heed the interruption ; the fumes of his 
 pipe were enwrapping and intoxicating his brain, and still 
 softly sucking the smoke, he continued his low, gloating 
 monologue : 
 
 " And to long to be diving among them, as you long for 
 a drink of water, but to be too happy and too lazy to stir ! 
 Oh, my God ! the Paradise it is ! And to think that we're 
 here ! " 
 
 " Braw and bonny — braw and bonny. But do they work 
 at nothing ? " asked the Master, breaking in with his clear, 
 serious voice upon the gloating, regretful monotone. 
 
 " Work ? " exclaimed O'Rhea, with impatience and scorn. 
 " They wouldn't know what you meant. Why should they 
 work ? They can have all they want without anything 
 that's worth calling work, and they don't make work for 
 work's sake, like fools in these countries here. They tickle 
 the ground, and it laughs into plenty. They have cocoa for 
 milk, wine, and oil. A land of milk and honey — milk and 
 honey ! What do they lack ? a Paradise of Love and 
 Plenty ! Love and Plenty all the year round ! Sunshine 
 and sunimer forever ! No winter, no storm — except," and 
 he sank his voice in reluctant admission, " a bagful of wind 
 at times." 
 
 "That must be needed to steer things about," said the 
 Master. " It's fine, Fergus, man — fine and bonny, and 
 tempting to think o', but without a bit bluffart of wind now 
 and then our folk would be choked in the soft air, and with- 
 out a spirt of rain at times they'd weary of the lee-lang sum- 
 mer day forever and aye." 
 
 " Oh, there's plenty of agreeable change," said O'Rhea, 
 waking up a little, and speaking in a more matter-of-fact 
 tone. " They build houses, and they weave mats, and they 
 do a little fighting with their neighbours, just to keep their 
 hand in." 
 
 " That's the ticket ! " exclaimed Steven. " Eh, Donald, ye 
 limmer I Toss the plaid, and swing the blade, by Jingo ! " 
 
 "There may be," said the Master seriously and slowly. 
 
148 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 sliowing plainly to the acute O'Ehea tlie groove in which 
 his thoughts ran — " there may be such bonnie soft wonder- 
 ful places in this wonderful world, whaur the mouth can be 
 filled just for the trouble of opening it, but I doubt they're 
 not for our folk. In such a soft air, lying on soft mossy 
 banks, they'd soon ha'e no fousion ; they'd yawn and think 
 long for their old country, and I doubt the De'il would be 
 at their lug putting them up to business of his own." 
 
 "By George, Maister," said Steven, "I'd risk it! Love 
 and Plenty, sir ! Love and Plenty, damme ! " 
 
 " Humph ! " said O'Rhea, still sucking his pipe. " It's so 
 like the canny-headed, serious-minded, and slow-hearted to 
 think that the Devil is the author and inventor of all happi- 
 ness and delight to get hold of men's souls ! " 
 
 "But, Fergus," said the Master, "it's you that's narrow- 
 hearted and low-minded, to think that what may suit you 
 should suit all. Ye cut other folk's breeks by your ain 
 measure.'' 
 
 " And a fine big measure it is ! " exclaimed O'Rhea. 
 
 "Maybe so, Fergus, maybe so, but everybody can not 
 wear them." 
 
 " Well, well," said Fergus, leaning his chin in his palm 
 and speaking in a tone of disgust, " I thought ye wanted 
 the sun. I've offered ye everything sunny and sweet — 
 without money and without price, begad ! — and ye won't 
 have it ! I know the place for you, bedad ! " said he, rous- 
 ing himself, and turning with another flash of thought upon 
 the Master. " They're islands that the Devil, I fancy, would 
 give a wide berth to. There are so many devils there already. 
 Your brother George and I were wrecked there sailing from 
 Singapore to Calcutta. It's just the place, by Jove ! for old 
 Chartists and philanthropists, and creatures of that sort. 
 I've heard John Company is going to send his Indian con- 
 victs there. That 'ud be the place for you, Hutcheon — 
 Andaman. Mangrove and banyan trees growing up and 
 then growing down " — he used his arms to illustrate the 
 double growth — " the little savage imps of natives behaving 
 in much the same confounded perverse way — hardly ever 
 the right end uppermost. But you could tame them and 
 
VISIOXS AND DREAMS. I49 
 
 teach them, as Robinson Crusoe tamed Friday. That 
 would give your spare time plenty to fill it, and philan- 
 thropists and Chartists, and old aristocrats with new 
 notions, are so damned fond of improving all kinds of 
 savages. By G — d, yes! And you'd have plenty of work, 
 and plenty of sunshine too ! The very place for you, I 
 should say." 
 
 " What call ye the place ? " asked the Master, with severe 
 look and serious tone. 
 
 '^ Andaman " answered O'Rhea. He took the book from 
 Hamish's loose fingers, turned to the fly-leaf, and with a 
 charred stick wrote, while he sniggered uncontrollably, 
 ANDAMAN, in letters tall and rude. 
 
 Hamish passed the book on to the Master. O'Rhea, after 
 his spasm of sniggering, fixed his eyes listlessly on the fire, 
 while his hairy, freckled hands — with the long-stemmed 
 pipe between the finger and thumb of the right — drooped 
 nervelessly over his knees. He remained thus for a minute 
 or more silent and inert, and seemed scarcely to breathe. 
 Suddenly a shiver passed through him and shook him to 
 the heart with such violence that its agitation was com- 
 municated to the loom against which he sat. 
 
 " My God ! " he cried between chattering teeth. " It has 
 got me after all ! " 
 
 In a little while they conveyed him upstairs and put liim 
 to bed in the Master's bed-chamber. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 VISIONS AND DREAMS. 
 
 Fergus O'Rhea lay sick of ague in the Master's bed- 
 chamber for several days, and during the latter part of the 
 time guest and host had plenty of opportunity of under- 
 standing each other's mind. O'Rhea continued deeply con- 
 
150 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 cerned to become completely acquainted with the desires 
 and designs which, he could see, were seething and ferment- 
 ing within the Master. He tried by frankness of speech to 
 induce frankness — by confidence to beget confidence; but 
 therein he made a mistake, for his frankness and confidence 
 were of such a sort as rather sealed up than opened any 
 desire the Master might have to communicate all that was 
 in his heart. The truth is, they cherished different views 
 and ideals of life. O'Rhea, while possessed of great intelli- 
 gence and intellectual energy, and a frank and taking 
 manner, was by nature and practice gross and sensual, and 
 that to such an essential degree that he did not understand 
 that any man at bottom could desire other things in life 
 than those he desired. The Master, on the other hand, was 
 romantic and something visionary, and though by no means 
 wanting in passion and in appreciation of the " mercies " 
 which so much engrossed O'Ehea's attention, he was repelled 
 and made reserved by the direct grossness with which 
 O'Bhea talked of the gratification of the appetites. He did 
 not reproach O'Ehea for possessing and cherishing these 
 desires and ideals ; he only declared they were not his, that 
 he would have neither part nor lot in them, and was reticent 
 more and more about the things he himself desired and 
 hoped for. 
 
 " It's plain to me," said he finally, when O'Rhea had set 
 before him in detail for the fifth or sixth time the attractions 
 of a life of complete surrender to indulgence — (" Love and 
 Plenty, sir ! ") — among the islands of the Southern Seas, " that 
 the Almighty has made us different. I'm not without my 
 feelings about they things, but it would be neither good for 
 me nor for others to settle down and wallow in a life of that 
 kind. I'm not blaming you for thinking it fine, but it's not 
 a life that's meet for me and them I think o' ; if I thought I 
 could take up with it kindly, I'd be feared for myself and 
 for them. No, Fergus, we can never agree about it. I do 
 not like it, and it would be better that ye should say no 
 more to me about your Paradises and your brown beauties. 
 I'm not hankering after being Adam in the Garden o' Eden 
 with a naked brown woman for Eve." 
 
VISIONS AND DREAMS. 151 
 
 " Hutcheon," exclaimed O'Rhea, " I believe ye're riot a 
 man at all ! " 
 
 "Maybe so, Fergus," said the Master proudly, "maybe 
 so. - But at least I'm not the man you'd have me be." 
 
 So it happened that the Master kept to himself what was 
 working in his heart then, and for some time he had no 
 further opportunity for talk with O'Rhea. When O'Rhea 
 was able to leave his bed, the Master took him to a little 
 house of his own on the edge of the wide moss beyond 
 " Freedom "' and the wood of Maiden Craig. House and 
 holding were all that remained of the ancient property of 
 the Masters of Hutcheon. They were " feu'd," or rented, by 
 a worthy crofter commonly known as Holy Willie, who 
 once or twice a week came to Ilkastane, on his way to the 
 market of Inverdoon, with butter and potatoes. In Holy 
 Willie's cart, then, O'Rhea made the journey to the house 
 by the moss, where he was to recover himself on fresh air, 
 buttermilk, and oatmeal. The Master walked beside the 
 cart with the crofter, while Hamish (who made holiday) 
 rode in the cart with O'Rhea. When he had seen the con- 
 valescent comfortably settled he set out with Hamish for 
 the four-mile walk home. 
 
 It was a sunny afternoon, spring was in the air, and the 
 stimulating resinous odour of the fir-trees in their nostrils. 
 They hurried away from the dark, melancholy moss, and 
 avoiding the high road passed through the wood of Maiden 
 Craig to make a short cut to " Freedom.'' The sun shone 
 softly through the gaps among the fir-trees, and stretched 
 beams of brightness across the hollow-sounding floor of fir- 
 needles ; the breeze rustled and soughed around, and the 
 cushat-doves cooed to each other in the shy distance. The 
 seduction, the melting charm of Nature was upon the Mas- 
 ter without his being quite aware of it. He stopped and 
 looked about him, and then he sat down with Hamish for a 
 little while ; and all the sounds of the wood made music in 
 his ears and in his heart. The wind streamed overhead in 
 the tops of the trees, now like the rush of many waters and 
 anon with the soft, long sigh of one turning in sleep, and 
 steadily through its majestic ebb and flow were heard the 
 
152 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 small accents of the secret life and industry of the wood — 
 the dropping of fir-needles on the floor, the rustle of in- 
 sects, the peck and hop of birds ; and all these sounds 
 moved the Master, as if it were set music played expressly 
 for him. He was grateful, and he rejoiced, for that music 
 of Nature beguiled his thoughts from the everyday, sordid, 
 and oppressive cares of the folk of Ilkastane into the high 
 and delectable satisfaction with all things that live in the 
 open air and sunshine — with the world as God made it, and 
 not as man has marred it. He recalled a saying of his 
 brother's in the striving and crying of the Chartist agita- 
 tion — " If ive cannot grow and flourish in the old place, 
 let us go away. There is plenty of good soil and air in 
 the world yety " Yes ; let us go away," he said to himself. 
 " The folk are more and more encompassed and oppressed 
 by new machines and new men that squeeze the life out of 
 them. They have been reduced, as my family has been, bit 
 by bit, from freemen of the moss, the wood, and the hill, till, 
 bit by bit, they are becoming slaves of the loom, and they 
 bend and strive in dark weaving-shops that smell of the tomb 
 to keep body and soul together ! " 
 
 "Hamish," said he to the boy who sat beside him deep 
 in Robinson Crusoe, which now accompanied him wherever 
 he went, " Hamish, where's that name Fergus wrote ? " 
 
 Hamish showed him the fly-leaf on which O'Rhea had 
 scratched "ANDAMAN." He looked at the word, and 
 seemed to ponder every letter, while the boy watched him 
 with growing interest. 
 
 " Are we gaun ? " he asked at length. 
 
 " Gaun where, laddie ? " said the Master. 
 
 " To that place," answered Hamish, pointing to the name 
 on the fly-leaf. 
 
 " There's no saying yet. I must think it ower, and learn 
 about it, and syne we'll see. To go there would be a longer 
 job than this jaunt we've made the day ; it would be a big- 
 ger flitting than from one side o' the loan to the other, and 
 that's the biggest most of the folk have seen." 
 
 " I ken that fine," said Hamish. " We'll ha'e to gang in 
 a ship. And maybe we'll be wrecked, like Robinson Crusoe, 
 
VISIONS AND DREAMS. 153 
 
 and get on an island a' by our lone and ha'e goats and 
 parrots." 
 
 " Maybe, laddie, maybe. But my wits are all in a creel 
 yet, and we must ca' canny. And by that token we must 
 be daundering hame, for the gloaming's coming on." 
 
 They continued their way through the wood and came 
 out upon " Freedom." " Freedom " was an expanse of com- 
 mon land, covered with whins and rowan-trees and creeping 
 brambles in the dry and rocky parts, and with rushes and 
 lush grass in the soft and boggy ; and through " Freedom " 
 the same burn babbled and brawled as afterwards visited 
 Ilkastane and the town of Inverdoon. It was well known 
 both to the Master and to Hamish, for there the Chartists 
 had held meetings by day, and drilled with pike and banner 
 by night, and thither the Ilkastane boys fled on school holi- 
 days to bathe and catch trout and water-rats, to make a 
 blaze of whins or to gather " brummles " or bramble-berries. 
 As the two, with their several memories, picked their way 
 through it, a clear boyish voice was lifted up in the singing 
 of " Green grow the rashes, O ! " The singer was a tow- 
 headed, bare-legged loon, accompanied by a collie dog, and 
 driving home a couple of cows towai-ds a thatched cottage 
 on the hill. The song of the loon woke recollection and 
 feeling in the Master. In that very place, on one of the rare 
 days of the past when the serious business of Chartist agita- 
 tion had been laid aside, he, his brother George, and O'Rhea, 
 and Kitty M'Cree (Hamish's mother), and another lass or 
 two had wandered gathering " brummles," and well he re- 
 membered his brother had sung that very song, " Green 
 grow the rashes, O ! " Then, thus unlocked, all the memo- 
 ries and feelings of that time swept over him like a flood — 
 all the strivings and the cryings, all the revolt and hope, all 
 the submission and despair — and while his heart burned 
 within him, he shook himself, and struck his knotty, iron- 
 shodded staff on the ground, and exclaimed to himself, 
 " No, Geordie ! The Cause shall not be lost ! We'll find 
 good ground and air and a fine sun to grow in yet ! Anda- 
 man ! It's Andaman ! — Andaman's the place ! " 
 
 In spite of his resolution to " ca' canny," to be moved 
 11 
 
154 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 only by fact and by reason, the Master was the kind of man 
 who attains an end or conclusion not by stages of arranged 
 arguments, but by successive impulses of feeling ; he was 
 the man who acts not because he knows he is right, but be- 
 cause he feels he cannot be wrong. He was like a doubtful 
 lover who, while appearing to seek cold matter-of-fact rea- 
 sons for courting his mistress, is perversely increasing the 
 blind ardours of his devotion. But why did Andaman thus 
 attract all his hopes and enthusiasms ? — why did he set his 
 affections on a place of which he knew nothing ? It was 
 precisely (as it is in love) because the Master knew nothing 
 of the place of his attraction, and imagined much, that it 
 drew him as a divine land of peace and freedom, of sunshine 
 and plenty. Those who are accustomed their lives long to 
 hear and to read eloquent and picturesque words, can have 
 but a faint idea of their effect on a sensitive imagination 
 that has been little used to such impressions. O'Ehea's 
 glowing descriptions became in the Master's mind a glori- 
 ous, beckoning vision ; for to his simple and eager imagina- 
 tion the contrasted views of the Golden Hesperides and of 
 forbidding Andaman mingled and became one. He saw all 
 in a shifting, unsettled order, but full of life and promise — 
 a distant, sunny shore, with yellow sand, blue sky, and 
 shimmering sea, cocoa-palms and mangroves, rest in the 
 shade, and work among impish but harmless natives and 
 poor convict exiles, who had been guilty of Chartism, or 
 whatever was the equivalent of Chartism there. These im- 
 pressions and visions he received with the freshness and 
 readiness of youth, and cherished with the practical need of 
 a full-grown and capable man to realise them. 
 
 So in imagination he saw his poor, lean folk transported 
 somehow out of their present half -starved and wholly dis- 
 pirited condition — Loudoun, M'Kay, Steven, and the rest, 
 they and their wives and bairns, old and young, with 
 Hamish of the yellow hair in the midst of them. Tamson 
 and the Bailie and their kind would remain behind and 
 make haste to be rich in their own selfish, grasping, com- 
 mercial way ; his folk would haste away to other riches — 
 to such riches of body and mind that they need no longer 
 
VISIONS AND DREAMS. I55 
 
 be harassed and worn with double toil in dark, unwhole- 
 some weaving-shops, nor driven to swallow drams by the 
 pains of hunger and despair, nor longer live in dread of 
 Tamson and the Bailie and starvation ! They would sit 
 in the liberal sunshine, with luscious fruits and sweet flowers 
 around them, and with the sound of the loom — a new, a 
 lighter, a glorified loom ! — in their ears, while they worked, 
 not with the hurried, feverish creak and clatter of the days 
 of many yards and few pence, but with the firm, regular 
 pulse of health I Yea, surely, it would be enough for a 
 while that, after all their toils and fears, they should sit with 
 folded hands, calm and contented in the sun, and be filled 
 with gratitude for the balmy air which would make them as 
 young again as if they had been blown upon by the breezes 
 of the Kingdom of Heaven ! — with wasted wives and bairns 
 (and the M'Crees, and especially Kitty — daft, solitary Kitty 
 — were certainly among them) to rest and be content^no 
 more ! Duties of work would arise when the time of rest 
 was past ; but meanwhile their right to a long Sabbath was 
 clear, whose week of toil had been a lifetime long ! Kitty 
 M'Cree certainly was there, with all the pathos and terror 
 of her look subdued and softened to something liker 
 humanity ; she was there, but was there not a flitting vision 
 of another also — of a bright humming-bird of a woman, a 
 little lady, winsome as the softest and sweetest breath of 
 song that ever touched the heart, and yet awesome as an 
 angel of God clothed with meekness and innocence ? 
 
 Did the Master say anything of these things to himself ? 
 Did he formulate any sentences concerning them ? He was 
 mute. His imagination was of the old Egyptian sort that 
 expressed itself in pictures. But his eyes an,d his counte- 
 nance shone, and he strode along through " Freedom " with 
 a light foot, twirling his knotty staff as he went, and some- 
 times making a cut with it at a prickly branch of whin that 
 stuck across his path. 
 
156 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 aimeie's aid. 
 
 The Master of Hutclieon was no reader of books. It may 
 seem a sin in the eyes of many, but it must be confessed. 
 He possessed, however, an assortment of old volumes stoutly 
 bound in calf, which he had inherited from his father and 
 his grandfather. Some of these stood on a shelf in his 
 sleeping-room, while others reposed in an oaken chest. 
 Though he seldom read in any of them, he knew what they 
 were, and their utility for practical purposes. Besides the 
 Poems of Ossian and The Poetical Works of Robert Burns, 
 there was nothing that could be called literature among 
 them ; the rest were Biblia abiblia — books that are no 
 books — volumes of devotion, archaeology, and topography, 
 and among them the Master knew where to find when he 
 sought. "When he reached home with Hamisli he went to 
 the oak chest and took out a set of four stout volumes — 
 CruttwelVs Universal Gazetteer, which its author declared 
 had something to say of every place in the known world. 
 
 " Look up the place, laddie," said the Master to Hamish. 
 " It'll be in the first volume." 
 
 " Whatna place ? " asked Hamish. 
 
 " Hoot, toot," said the Master, with a touch of impatience. 
 " Andaman, of course. Ye'U come upon it near the begin- 
 ning — among the A's. A, N — An." 
 
 " Here it is ! " exclaimed Hamish, " a long screed." 
 
 " Read it out," said the Master, leaning forward with his 
 hands clasped to listen. 
 
 Hamish read tlie description of the situation of Andaman, 
 and the size of the two islands, of which the writer incor- 
 rectly declared that Andaman consisted. ( " Twa islands 
 are there? " exclaimed the Master. " I hadna expected to be 
 fashed wi' making a wale." * ) And then he came to this, 
 which seemed to authorise what O'Rhea had said, and which 
 
 * Walo — Choice. 
 
AIMfiF/S AID. 157 
 
 confirmed the Master's opinion of tlie desirability of the 
 place. " ' The inhabitants are of a gentle, harmless dispo- 
 sition^ and employ themselves in cultivating their lands.'' " 
 
 " That's it ! " exclaimed the Master. " That's the very- 
 thing.'' 
 
 '" They raise great plenty of rice and fruit,' " continued 
 Hamish, "'ivhich they sell to European vessels jchich pass 
 that way.' " 
 
 "Of course they do," said the Master. "Why should 
 they no? Canny, eident * creatures." 
 
 Hamish continued, and read a passage quoted from a 
 Major Symes, which seemed to deny that the natives were 
 either canny or industrious. There wa-s an evident contra- 
 diction, after considering which the Master declined to give 
 credit to the Major. 
 
 " That will not do," said he. " They canna be both gen- 
 tle and harmless and at the same time ferocious and lazy. 
 I just think," he continued, addressing himself more than 
 the boy, " what might be said about our folk here — ' sair 
 hadden down, lang-suffering, and eident,' their friends would 
 say; 'rough, rebellious, drucken, and lazy,' the folk o' the 
 town that dinna ken them would say. We ken which is 
 right. Na; the Major either doesna, ken they creatures, or 
 he has done them some wrang that gi'es him a grudge 
 against them. Ca' on, laddie, and never heed the Major." 
 
 Hamish continued, but he came upon nothing that ar- 
 rested interest until at the end he encountered the suspicion 
 that the Andaman islanders were cannibals. Then he paused, 
 and turned to the Master in terror. 
 
 " That," said he in a half-whisper, " is just like the black 
 men that cam' to Robinson Crusoe's place ! " 
 
 " Ay," said the Master, " I mind. They almost terrified 
 the soul out o' him. But ca' on, let's hear ; maybe that's the 
 Major again miscalling them." 
 
 " ' If it be so,' " continued Hamish (that is, if it be that the 
 natives are cannibals), ^"^ Major Symes thinks it may be 
 oiving to the want of other food rather than natural 
 
 * Eident — Industrious. 
 
158 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 depravity.'' And that's a'," said Hamish, laying down the 
 book. 
 
 "I was sure o't," said the Master.. "There's the Major 
 again.'' 
 
 " But," exclaimed Hamish, whose terror was little dis- 
 counted by the assurance that it was only the Major had 
 caused it, " if they kill us and roast us on a great brander, 
 and eat us ! " 
 
 " They'd ha'e to catch us first, my lad," said the Master. 
 "We're no there yet; and if we were there, we'd ha'e a 
 word or twa to spell over wi' them afore they had any 
 chance o' brandering us. But they are gentle and harmless, 
 and they grow plenty o' rice and fruit, says that bit ye read 
 first ; and if they're harmless they canna be ferocious, as the 
 Major says ; and if they grow enough fruit and rice to eat, 
 what for should they eat ane another, as the Major says they 
 do? Of course, it may be just because they ha'e no other 
 kitchen.* The Major may be right in that — though I ha'e 
 no belief in't ; but, if and supposing it's true, we'd soon learn 
 them to get other kitchen to their cakes, so dinna be a fright- 
 ened gowk. And let's think o' something o' mair conse- 
 quence. There's no mention of the lord or king o' the islands. 
 Wha do they belong to? — that's what I want to ken." 
 
 "Dinna they belong to the folk that bide there?" asked 
 Hamish. 
 
 " It's likely they do, laddie, but the folk must ha'e ane to 
 rule and guide them — a king, or lord, or leader— or else 
 they're like no other folk that I ever heard o'. Now wha's 
 he that speaks for them and acts for them?— that's what I 
 want to ken." 
 
 " Maybe he's a she," said Hamish. 
 
 " Maybe so, laddie, maybe so. There are queens even 
 among sauvage folk. But," said he, " there's nothing more 
 to be got out o' this book. Ay, I see it's gey auld — eighteen 
 hunder and eight ; there's mony a thing has happened since 
 that time, and kings come up and kings gane down, so we'll 
 just put it back in the big kist." 
 
 * Kitchen — What is oaten as relish to dry bread. 
 
AIM^E'S AID. 159 
 
 For some time the two, the Master and the boy, dis- 
 cussed possibilities of further information concerning An- 
 daman — discussed them gravely ; for the Master, in his noble 
 simplicity and general ignorance of the world, had an ex- 
 traordinary opinion of the understanding and knowledge 
 of Hamish ; and Hamish on his part had always conversed 
 so much more with the Master and other men than with 
 mere boys, that he was completely self-possessed, frank, and 
 "old-fashioned." He suggested that they might ask ques- 
 tions of Major Symes, or of the minister who had written 
 the book, but the Master pointed out that since the book 
 was about fifty years old it was likely that the minister and 
 the Major were both dead. Then Hamish impatiently de- 
 manded why they could not land in Andaman without ask- 
 ing leave of anyone, to which the Master replied that he 
 thought it neither proper nor civil to settle down among 
 any folk without permission, the rather that there would be 
 a ship-load of them. 
 
 " How would we like it," said he, " if a cum o' Andaman 
 folk came and sat down among us here in Ilkastane without 
 a ' by your leave ' ? " 
 
 So the discussion stood still for want of matter, and the 
 darkness settled down, and Hamish received his oat-cake 
 and milk and went to bed. Then the Master went and 
 opened the little windows that looked upon the close, and 
 leaned out in dreamy thought. All the anxious, painful, 
 and sordid sounds of the life and industry of the place rose 
 about him like reproachful or appealing spirits with wings. 
 From the squalid tenements came the birr and boom of the 
 rapid wheels at which the lean pale mothers toiled to wind 
 the pirns to be consumed in the fathers' shuttles, and from 
 tlie weaving-shops rose the regular thump of the lays and 
 creak of the treadles; the sound of the wheels was fre- 
 quently interrupted in order that the mothers might scold 
 or pacify their squalling, half-starved children, and the thud 
 of the looms was often hushed by the necessity (as the Mas- 
 ter well knew) of mending the rotten warp and weft of the 
 Bailie served out by Tamson. He assuaged the pain that 
 state of things caused him by fancying he could hear the 
 
ICO THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 brisk and steady thump of the lays (with no irritating breaks 
 because of rotten warp and weft) and the click of his own 
 " Whamleerie " coming through wide-open doors and win- 
 dows, in and out which wandered playful zephyrs laden 
 with the scent of flowers and fruit, all mingling with the 
 croon of a lullaby, the fresh laughter of children, the drowsy 
 " a, b, ab " of boys and girls at school, and the gentle, sooth- 
 ing wash of a summer sea. All these desirable things were 
 summed up in the one word ''Andaman" which he re- 
 peated over and over again to himself, as a lover, who 
 dreams of the toil and bliss of the future, murmurs the name 
 of his sweetheart as in itself expressing all. 
 
 " I must and will find it out,'' said he, giving way to a 
 fresh impulse. 
 
 On a sudden thought he closed the window, seized his 
 bonnet and staff, and set o£P at a quick pace out of the close 
 and down the loan. He could not, even if he would, ask 
 any questions of O'Ehea that night ; but he had bethought 
 him that George Lepine was well educated and possessed 
 many books, and that therefore the information he desired 
 might be got from him. He marched along the Burnside 
 and entered the shadowed gate of Corbie Ha', tramped over 
 the grass-grown gravel, and pulled the great bell handle at 
 the big hall door. The bell clanged loudly within, the mel- 
 ancholy Jaques opened the door, and the dim light of the 
 hall flowed forth. The Master inquired if young Mr. Lepine 
 were within. 
 
 " No, sir," answered Jaques, peering to recognise the vis- 
 itor, " he is not. Monsieur le Bailli and Monsieur George 
 remain in the town for the banquet which is this night. 
 What name, sir ? " 
 
 "Hutcheon," answered the Master, "the Master of 
 Hutcheon ; " for he conceived it well to be on his dignity 
 with people who made themselves great by doubtful 
 means. 
 
 " Oh, Monsieur le Maitre," exclaimed Jaques, " Monsieur 
 le Bailli and Monsieur George will be desolate ! " 
 
 " Who is it, Jaques ? " asked a sweet, female voice, and 
 Aimee appeared in her bright, humming-bird attire. 
 
AIMliiB'S AID. 161 
 
 "It is Monsieur le Mattre, mademoiselle," answered 
 Jaqiies, promptly standing aside. 
 
 The Master and Aimee were then face to face. The 
 Master took off his bonnet and bent himself before the lit- 
 tle lady. 
 
 " Ah, it is you ! " she exclaimed, and impulsively held out 
 her hand. " How do you do ? Father will be very much 
 disappointed." 
 
 " I am disappointed too," said the Master, " but it was 
 your brother I wished to have a word with." 
 
 "Perhaps I can tell him — perhaps you can tell me,' she 
 said, thinking that what the Master had to say to George 
 must concern Elsie, whom she now knew all about. " Will 
 you not come in? " 
 
 It occurred to the Master that she, who had but just 
 finished her school training in such centres of knowledge 
 and culture as Edinburgh and Paris, might be able to 
 answer his questions as well as her brother could, and there 
 was no doubt that it would be more agreeable to talk to her, 
 the bright, winsome bird, with the sweet voice and the 
 frank and sparkling eye ! the charming wee lady who, in 
 spite of his suspicion and dislike of her father, made his 
 heart bow in tender homage, and his pulse throb faster and 
 stronger. 
 
 " I thank ye," said he ; " I'll just step in for a minute." 
 
 She tripped, and he followed, into the drawing-room, 
 and though the Master had never in his life before seen 
 such wealth and elegance of furniture, carpets, and mir- 
 rors, he showed no unusedness or awkwardness. He would 
 have thought shame to be impressed by a display of braws 
 got together by means which he despised. He so com- 
 pletely ignored the magnificence around him that Aimee 
 (who was rather proud of the drawing-room) thought he 
 must, of course, be accustomed to greater magnificence far. 
 Why should he not, since he was a count, or something of 
 the kind ? He stood and looked down upon her from his 
 great height with a smile of chivalrous indulgence which 
 piqued her. She would at least reduce him to more of a 
 level with herself. 
 
162 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 " Will you not sit down ? " said she. 
 
 Yes, the Master would sit down — on a chair that looked 
 substantial enoug-h to bear the weight of his bulk, with his 
 sinewy hands clasped on the head of his staff, and his bon- 
 net on his knee. 
 
 " I am thinking," said he, with a smile which Aimee 
 thought lit up his whole countenance divinely, "that ye 
 might be able to tell me what I've come to ask about." 
 
 " Something about Elsie ? " said she, with an involuntary 
 smile in answer to his. 
 
 " About Elsie ! " exclaimed he, in surprise. " No, about 
 Andaman. But is anything wrong about Elsie ? " 
 
 " Not as I know," answered she. " She is coming here 
 to-morrow— it is arranged— and then I shall not be alone 
 amy more." 
 
 "And," said he with a singularly wistful look, "I daur- 
 say ye'll like that." 
 
 " Yes, I daresay I shall. But what is Andaman, if you 
 please ? " 
 
 The Master was delighted to be able to instruct her that 
 Andaman was an island, or islands, in the Bay of Bengal 
 and not far from India — "where," said he, "my brother 
 George — the same name as your brother's — ^has just died " 
 — that Andaman was one of the most desirable places on the 
 earth's surface, possessing freedom and content, sunshine 
 and breeze, and inhabited only by a handful of droll, harm- 
 less natives of small stature. He was surprised and pleased 
 with his own eloquence and the interest he aroused in the 
 winsome young lady. 
 
 " But," said she, " you know all that about it, and you 
 wish to know more from me ! But me, I know nothing 
 about it ! " and she laughed lightly. " I had not heard even 
 the name till you told me." 
 
 " That's a very great pity," said he, and inwardly he won- 
 dered that the young lady's education should have been so 
 neglected. 
 
 " But what more is there to know about it than you 
 know?" she asked. "You seem to me to know all about 
 it." 
 
aim:&e's aid. 163 
 
 " There's a haiitle more to know," said he. " But I wish 
 to know now in particular who the place belongs to." 
 
 " Who it belongs to ? " she exclaimed. " But do you wish 
 to buy it, Mr. Hutcheon ? " 
 
 " Buy it ? I doubt it would stick me to buy it — though I 
 do not know. That's not a bad notion you've started, my 
 young leddy." 
 
 " And," said she, considering him, " would you go away 
 and live there f " 
 
 "I might," said he, with the constraint and shyness of one 
 who has been suddenly found out in a secret love affair. 
 " Maybe. But I've settled nothing. It's a new notion ; it's 
 a dream that has come over me." 
 
 " And would you go away all alone ? " 
 
 " Alone I No, Q-od forbid ! The folk would go with me 
 — the weavers o' Ilkastarie and their wives and bairns — a' to 
 be happy and halesome and content together. But it's a' in 
 the clouds yet. I'm just turning the notion over and over. 
 I ought to say nothing about it yet.'' 
 
 " Oh, please tell me, Mr. Hutcheon," said Aimee, impul- 
 sively. " Are the people in Ilkastane very unhappy now, 
 then ? " 
 
 Then he opened his heart to her, and told of all the 
 troubles of the weavers and their families, their endless toil 
 and their poverty. And who, she demanded with indigna- 
 tion, made thena work so hard for so little ? The Master 
 looked at her in pity and tenderness, for he could not tell 
 the innocent and winsome young lady that her father was 
 their great oppressor. Prompted by his tender regard for 
 her, he hit upon an answer which had wider and deeper 
 truth than that which had first occurred to him. The 
 tendency of industry was all against the folk, he said in 
 effect ; everywhere steam-machines were pushing human 
 hands aside without pity and taking their place, so that 
 those who had been taught the old crafts found less and less 
 to do. The terrible change, he said, had been coming on 
 gradually with ever-growing force ; and then he told her of 
 the Chartist agitation and rising which had ended eight 
 years before, from which the folk had hoped so much, but 
 
164 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 which left them more oppressed and sorer " haddeu down " 
 than before. 
 
 " Ah, yes," said Aimee, flushed with interest, " I re- 
 member at the same time there was the Revolution in 
 Paris. I had then twelve years. I was at school. It was 
 terrible ! . Was it a Revolution here also ? " 
 
 " We went a good many steps that way,'' said the Master, 
 "but we didna get the length of a Revolution." 
 
 And he told her how what promised to be a Revolution 
 was broken up, how some were arrested, tried, and trans- 
 ported, and others escaped and fled over sea, among whom 
 was his brother now dead ; and then, since she still listened 
 with the extremest interest and sympathy, he continued to 
 tell her — he could not help it — of the privations of the 
 weavers at that time and until now, when fairer prospects 
 were dawning and he would be able to put an end to the 
 toils and oppressions they had endured. 
 
 " It is very, very good of you 1 " she exclairaed with a 
 tear in her eye. 
 
 "Nothing of the kind. Miss Aimee," said he, simply. 
 " It's only proper and right for me to do what I can for 
 them. They're my own folk. Their forbears served mine 
 faithfully by road and by stile, with hand and with blood ; 
 they worked for them and fought under them in the days 
 of lang-syne." 
 
 Aimee looked at him with admiration and homage 
 which she found it "hard to conceal. 
 
 "Of course,'' said she, "you are" — a count or something 
 she was about to continue ; but she suddenly thought that 
 would not be a nice thing to say, and she added instead — 
 " able to do many things to help them. But why must you 
 take them far, far away to that place Andaman ? " 
 
 " Well," said he, "I see nothing other for it if they are 
 not to be clean whirled away in the spate of all this new, 
 rushing kind of business that's coming all over them and 
 round about them. I cannot tell ye everything that makes 
 the flitting a needcessity " — he was thinking of the theft of 
 his " Whamleerie." 
 
 " It's very nice and kind of you to have told me so 
 
AIM^E'S AID. 165 
 
 mucli. I had no business to have asked you so many 
 questions ; and now, after all, I can't tell you what you 
 want to know." 
 
 " I am really and truly sorry for that. And," he con- 
 tinued, considering her till she blushed under his gaze, " I 
 kenna how I've come to say so much. It's the plain truth,'' 
 he declared with simple earnestness, " that I've not said so 
 much to a single soul. But when once I began and saw you 
 hearkening, like an angel in a picture" — Aimee blushed 
 with delight — " I could do nothing but pour it out. Ifs a 
 doom's wonder 1 " he exclaimed to himself. 
 
 "Perhaps," said she, "you are sorry you have told me." 
 
 " Sorry ? No, no I It has been the wale o' pleasures to 
 see ye hearkening with your heart in your een. But I'll 
 ask a favour of you. Miss Aimee — that ye say nothing of all 
 I have said to any other creature, nothing for a while, at 
 least, because, ye see, there's, nothing settled ; it's all in a 
 creel." 
 
 Aimee readily promised. She did not perceive how 
 secret sharing made an easy and perhaps dangerous bond of 
 intimacy, and, to do him justice, no more did the Master. 
 
 " I'm loth, though," said he reflectively, " to go to my bed 
 the night without getting an answer to that question I came 
 with." 
 
 " I wish I could help you to get an answer," said she. 
 " Perhaps I can. Let me see." And she gathered her 
 pretty black brows in thought. " Suppose we first look at 
 an atlas. George has a large new one." 
 
 At once she rose and tripped out of the room, and 
 Hutcheon, left to himself, wondered, and did not cease to 
 wonder, at the pitch of confidence he had so soon arrived at 
 with this simple and charming young lady. "She's the 
 bonniest bird and the most winsome I ha'e ever seen," he 
 said to himself, and straightway she reappeared, bearing a 
 large atlas. The Master might then have paid her a very 
 pretty compliment, and declared what a privilege it was for 
 the world to be borne in the arms of an innocent maid, in- 
 stead of, as of old, on the shoulders of a groaning giant ; but 
 the little classical lore the Master had picked up in his youth 
 
166 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 had long been forgotten, and he only rose now and in silence 
 took the burden from her. She cleared a place on the table, 
 and he set the atlas down. 
 
 " Now," said she, " we must find the map of India, I sup- 
 pose." India was found, and after a little search the desired 
 islands. "Here," said she, laying a little pink nail Qn the 
 place, " is your Andaman ; three, four islands, and one or 
 two little ones." 
 
 The Master gazed with all his eyes at the place of his 
 hopes. 
 
 " It is here ! " she exclaimed. " Bravo ! ' British posses- 
 sions coloured red.'' Andaman belongs to us — to the Queen. 
 Your question is answered, Mr. Hutcheon. I am so glad 
 I've helped you after all." 
 
 "Most astonishing! Eed. So it is, like a soldier's 
 jacket!" he exclaimed. "I would not have thought the 
 answer could have been so easily got at. I am very much 
 obliged to ye. Ye have been very kind in hearkening to 
 my havers, and in helping me to an answer." 
 
 He did not sit down again. His business was done, and 
 his desired information was complete. 
 
 " So," said he, half to himself, " it's to the Queen that ane 
 must make application about the place." 
 
 He thanked the bonny bird again, pressed her little hand 
 in his, and took his leave ; and the bonny bird sat down, 
 flushed and wondering, with a hundred new bright thoughts 
 and fancies hovering about her. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE BOY AND THE MAN. 
 
 The Master was a puzzle to himself that night. When 
 he left Corbie Ha' and returned along the Burnside 
 with springy step, bounding pulse, and beckoning hope, 
 
THE BOY AND THE MAN. 167 
 
 he did not know what had raised him to such a pitch of 
 ecstatic pleasure — whether his confidential interview with 
 the winsome Aimee or the discovery of the fact he had gone 
 in search of. But he was certain that two names were 
 burning one over the other on his heart in letters of fire ; 
 both began with an " A," and both seemed related with the 
 verb Amo-amavi-amatum-amare, of which the Master re- 
 membered sufficient to recall to himself, with a smile, that 
 it has a gerund amandum, and with a little twining of syl- 
 lables there was little difference between " Amandum " and 
 " Andaman." He Sat long over his frugal supper of oat-cake 
 and skim-milk cheese, gazing the while at the fire. As he 
 sat, a cinder shot out at him. He picked it up, and examined 
 it in the light of his candle. It was plainly a boat — either a 
 ■ boat or a coffin — signifying surely that he was destined to 
 sail over sea, or to perish in the attempt. He tossed the 
 cinder back into the fire, and laughed to himself with a 
 little sneer at his superstition. Such signs and presages, 
 he had often remarked, are always ambiguous — two-faced 
 or two-voiced temptations of the " juggling fiends that palter 
 with us in a double sense." But he was that night filled 
 with life and hope of a wonderful newness, and was not to 
 be moved by any interpretation of signs and tokens in the 
 heavens above or in the earth beneath; those who fash 
 their thumbs about omens and forebodings are the uncertain, 
 the insecure, the dejected, or the sick. So the Master went 
 to bed, humming in a tenor voice : 
 
 " Ca' the yowes to the knowes, 
 Ca' them whaur the heather grows, 
 Ca' them whaur the burnte rows, 
 My bonnie dearie." 
 
 But the Fate that sat weaving the web of the Master's 
 destiny had already resolved that it was not to be all com- 
 posed of fine, ethereal gold ; already she was preparing to 
 run in coarse and contrary and knotty threads to spoil its 
 fine texture. 
 
 In the morning, when they sat over their porridge — the 
 Master and his young charge — Hamish, with the morning 
 
168 THE KIXG OP ANDxiMAN. 
 
 necessity of all young creatures to be chirping and chatter- 
 ing, plied his patron with questions and remarks. Had he 
 found out yet who was the owner of Andaman ? Very 
 likely the schoolmaster would know; should Hamish ask 
 him ? or would the Master write the question down ? Per- 
 haps the schoolmaster would take more notice if the Master 
 wrote. To all which Hutcheon replied vaguely — for not 
 half his attention was given to the boy — that there was no 
 need to ask the schoolmaster ; that, indeed, he would not 
 like the matter mentioned to the schoolmaster ; that he had 
 already found the answer to the question. And what was 
 the answer ? Oh, the answer was that Andaman was " red," 
 Andaman belonged to the Queen. 
 
 "Hooray !" cried Hamish. "Now we can gang ; we can 
 spier at the Queen to let us, instead o' having to conquer 
 they funny little black men." 
 
 " Conquer the black men ? What the sorrow do you 
 mean, laddie ? " demanded the Master. 
 
 " When folk gang to bide in a place without leave they 
 aye conquer the folk that's there, dinna they ? " 
 
 " Faigs, laddie," exclaimed the Master, "but ye ha'e begun 
 in good time wi' your conquering ! Go 'wa' wi' ye to your 
 school, and tell the dominie to learn ye better manners ! 
 Ye'll be for drilling us a' wi' guns and pikes next ! Go 'wa' 
 to your school ! It's time." 
 
 Hamish rose with an astonished and sore heart. Never 
 before had the Master spoken so sharply to him, and he had 
 been expecting that henceforward all day and every day 
 was to be occupied with preparations for the voyage to 
 Andaman. No more school, no more anything but Robinson 
 Crusoe and Andaman ! Hamish was commonly docile 
 enough, and too much interested in school learning to seek 
 to play truant ; but this sudden revulsion was too great for 
 him. He flung his school-satchel over his shoulder and 
 went out, but he did not — he could not — go to school, for he 
 had prepared no lessons. He lingered a moment or two in 
 the loan, and then, catching sight of Holy Willie's cart, he 
 bethought him of O'Ehea and O'Rhea's words — " Stick to 
 me and you'll be all right." His resolve was taken ; he 
 
TIIK BOY AND THE MAN. 169 
 
 would go to O'Rliea, who was almost as good company as Rob- 
 inson Crusoe himself, and talk with him about Andaman. 
 Away he galloped up the loan, and without hesitation took 
 the road to the house on the margin of the moss. The way 
 was long, but the morning was bright, birds sang overhead 
 and twittered in bush and tree, the grass grew green, lambs 
 gambolled in the fields beside their mothers, and Hamish 
 prevailed on a wandering collie to accompany him part of 
 his way. 
 
 With all these pastimes and seductions Hamish did not 
 reach the house by the moss till the middle of the forenoon. 
 O'Rhea was sitting at the door smoking, with dissatisfied 
 slumberous eye on the prospect ; a dung-heap on which 
 fowls lazily scratched and pecked, a dabble where ducks 
 spattered and guzzled, and away beyond the dark, treacher- 
 ous moss, or bog, with its white fluttering cotton-weeds, its 
 brown stacks of peat here and there, its glittering pools, and 
 its green quags, and still beyond the darker fir-woods 
 against the bright sky. When he saw Hamish approach he 
 took the pipe from his mouth and waited with gathered 
 and attentive brows. 
 
 "Well, my boy," said he, when Hamish stood before 
 him, " what's happened ? What are ye doing here ? Where's 
 the Master ? Twisting webs ? patching whamleeries ? or 
 hatching other folks' eggs, eh ? Sit down and tell me all 
 about it." 
 
 He gripped the boy's arm with affection and twisted him 
 round to the bench beside himself. And then he saw his 
 school-satchel. 
 
 " Hallo ! " said he. " What ? Playing truant again ? " 
 He leaned his elbows on his knees and looked into the boy's 
 face, to which a grubby hand was raised to rub a knuckle 
 in the eye. "Come, come, never fear. Don't pipe your eye. 
 Here's a handkerchief. Oh, you've one of your own. All 
 right. Wipe it, and let's say no more about it." 
 
 But having the sore spot of his conscience once touched, 
 
 Hamish could not but cry out. He declared he had had no 
 
 intention of playing truant ; he had not expected to have 
 
 to go to school and had prepared no lessons, and then the 
 
 13 
 
170 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 Master had told him he must go. But why, O'Rhea asked, 
 had he expected another holiday ? 
 
 "Because," answered Hamish, "I thought we were a' 
 gaun to get ready to gang to Andaman." 
 
 " What's that ? Going to Andaman ? Who are going 
 to Andaman ? " 
 
 Then Hamish poured out the whole matter with which 
 he was bursting — how the Master was always speaking and 
 seemed always thinking of Andaman since ever O'Rhea 
 had mentioned the place ; how they had sought it out and 
 read about it in the Gazetteer the evening before ; how the 
 Master was bothered to find out to whom it belonged, so 
 that he might ask permission to go ; and how that morning 
 he had said he had found the place belonged to the Queen. 
 
 " And so, then," said O'Ehea, " when you were sent o£F 
 to school, and thought it was all up with Andaman, you 
 came out to me to talk about it ? " 
 
 Hamish nodded and put his handkerchief away. 
 
 "Do you think we can gang ? " he asked with a timid 
 wistfulness. 
 
 " Gang ? Of course. But let me think about it." 
 
 "Ye baith say that," observed Hamish. "The Maister 
 aye says he maun think about it." 
 
 " Does he so ? " quoth O'Rhea. " Well, you're a good 
 boy, a fine boy," and he patted his head and stroked his 
 hair, " to come and tell me, because, d'ye see, I'm the man 
 that knows all about it." 
 
 "I ken that," said Hamish. "Ye ken as muckle as 
 Robinson Crusoe.'' 
 
 " I do that, my boy — and more too. You stick to that. 
 Now you must have a piece and a drink of milk, and then 
 we'll set away back together." 
 
 While Hamish ate his oat-cake and drank his milk, 
 O'Rhea questioned and cross-questioned him, and then he 
 sat and smoked and thought. If I have at all succeeded in 
 showing the kind of man O'Rhea was, the tenor of his 
 thoughts will readily be guessed. For soriie reason or 
 another he conceived he had a right to the enjoyment of a 
 liberal share of the fortune left to the Master by his brother. 
 
THE BOY AND THE MAN. 171 
 
 and seeing no way of enjoying his share except by partici- 
 pating in such schemes of expenditure as the Master 
 meditated, and being also masterful by nature, he was 
 resolved that Hutcheon should spend in- the way O'Rhea 
 thought best. He had seen he could not prevail with the 
 Master by bullying or by bluff ; he must, therefore, prevail 
 and get his own way by craft. And he had the advantage 
 of the Master — as the average sensualist must ever have 
 over the idealist — in that he exactly knew what he really 
 wanted. He was by predestination and by practice an 
 adventurer and a rufiler ; the bonds and trammels of civil- 
 ised society were exceedingly irksome to him, and worse 
 than irksome were the disease and ague tliat racked his 
 bones and poisoned his blood and frequently flung him 
 prostrate, and from these he had never known complete 
 deliverance and emancipation except among the islands of 
 the Southern Seas. He was fully bent, then, on returning 
 thither — as earnestly bent and with as much preoccupation 
 as the pietist is bent on reaching heaven. His heart and 
 his flesh cried out for the health and delight of Polynesia, 
 and all other considerations he would sacrifice to attain 
 them. Moreover, he had a complete scheme for aggrandise- 
 ment and enjoyment there, which he had resolved that the 
 Master's fortune should pay for ; and since the Master was 
 not easily to be separated from his fortune, the Master and 
 his fortune must go with him together. 
 
 By what means of craft was the Master to be worked 
 into complicity with his purpose ? Hutcheon seemed to be 
 uncertain about Andaman, notwithstanding his enthusiasm, 
 so that if O'Rhea, as matters were, pretended to go heartily 
 with him in his dream of migration thither, there was no 
 kind of surety that he might not any day declare that the 
 plan and the preparations were " off " ; for many things 
 might happen to show the undesirability or folly of a 
 migration of the Ilkastane folk. How, then, could the 
 Master be bound down to go through with a plan once it 
 was fixed ? O'Rhea gnawed his thumb inside and out 
 while he fiercely turned that over in his mind. At length 
 he snapped his fingers and slapped his great hands together. 
 
172 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 " By Gor ! " he exclaimed, " I have it. ' The Lord's 
 Anointed ' ! Tamson, I thank thee for that word ! " 
 
 Then he fell silent again, but in his fierce agitation he 
 gnawed his thumb all round. It seemed, however, he was 
 only waiting for the boy, for he glanced at him now and 
 then, and when the oat-cake and milk were all dispatched 
 he rose to his feet, saying, " Come on, my son. We must 
 be setting home now," 
 
 Hamish looked at him. He had taken his staff in hand, 
 and was stepping out with a very bright, resolute eye. He 
 paused and held out his hand for Hamish to lay hold, and 
 they set forth together. 
 
 " Are ye gaun to tell on me ? " said the boy presently. 
 
 " Tell on you ? " exclaimed O'Rhea, passing his hand 
 tenderly about Hamish's shoulder. " You're a clever boy 
 now, and can see farther into things than most boys. Well, 
 I need only point out to you that, if we don't tell that you've 
 been here instead of at school. Holy Willie's wife may, and 
 we wouldn't like to be found out in a kind of lie, would we ? 
 You understand that. So you see it will be better to tell at 
 once. The Master would not like it if he knew you had told 
 me about Andaman before he has ; and then he might say 
 you shouldn't go to Andaman at all, and you wouldn't like 
 tliat." 
 
 "But I maun gang,'' said Hamish, "if the Master gangs 
 and a' the folk gang ! " 
 
 " But supposing nobody goes, my son ? " 
 
 " Ow ! " cried Hamish in alarm. 
 
 " So we'll just say you came to hear some of my Crusoe 
 stories.'' 
 
 " I'll just say notliing ava'," said Hamish, with a some- 
 what sulky look. 
 
 " Truthful boy ! " laughed O'Rhea. " Stick to that. But 
 it will be an awful disappointment if you don't go, won't it ? 
 No Crusoes, no parrots, no goats, no funny black natives. 
 And you won't go if Hutcheon doesn't ask the Queen. If 
 he writes to the Queen it will be all right ; but if he doesn't, 
 why, it'll be all wrong. You'll never go to lovely Anda- 
 man, but stay all your days in this cold, cloudy, stormy 
 
THE BOY AND THE MAN. 173 
 
 country, eating bitter kail and gritty oat-cakes ! Ugh ! I 
 could spit on myself for being here when I ought to be 
 there 1 "' 
 
 These words impressed Hamish deeply. 
 
 " Oh ! " he exclaimed, " I hope he'll write ! But if he 
 winna, couldna we get a boat and gang by oursel's ? " 
 
 "No, no," said O'Rhea with decision. "We couldn't. 
 How could we ? through waves as high as houses, storms, 
 rains, no money, and a biscuit a-piece ? That wouldn't do 
 at all. No. We must all go in a ship — a proper ship — a top- 
 sail schooner, with everything handsome, along with the 
 Master ; but he must first write to the Queen, mustn't he ? 
 Oh, we can't let him miss writing to the Queen, can we ? " 
 
 He urged these points with earnestness, pressing the 
 boy's shoulder now and then, and watching his face till he 
 saw an expression of seriousness and resolution finally settle 
 upon it, and he said to himself, " Now the boy'll give him 
 no peace till he writes." 
 
 So they trudged along the road through the dark wood 
 of Maiden Craig, round the end of " Freedom," and on and 
 on the weary way to Ilkastane. But O'Ehea beguiled the 
 weariness of the way with stories of men and beasts, ships 
 and coral islands — such stories as Hamish had never heard 
 or read — and he imitated the growls of beasts and the cries 
 of birds, so that you shivered with terror and delight. He 
 was very kind to the boy ; for when Hamish began to show 
 signs of being footsore, he stopped, saying he would give 
 him a " lift," were it not that he was himself so weak still 
 (indeed, ever since they had set out, he had whipped out his 
 great red handkerchief at intervals to wipe the perspiration 
 that would spring on his face), but that, a " lift " being out 
 of the question, they would sit down and rest awhile. 
 When they had sat down, O'Rhea pulled off the boy's shoes 
 and shook the dust out, set his stockings straight and. 
 pinched his calves, all with the attention and tenderness of 
 a mother. While they rested O'Rhea smoked, and Hamish, 
 in the easy intimacy established between them, chattered 
 about all things with which he had acquaintance. O'Rhea 
 listened with a smile of indulgence, and, to Hamish's sur- 
 
174 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 prise, frequently hugged him to his side. When they set 
 forth again, and had got within easy thought of Ilkastane, 
 they both fell silent with anticipation of what they would 
 say to the Master and what the Master would say to 
 them. 
 
 " And so Hew Tamson's loon Tam is in the Post-Ofiice, 
 is he ? " O'Rhea remarked suddenly with an odd twinkle of 
 eye and great breadth of smile. 
 
 "'Ay," said Hamish, "he's a clerk." 
 
 "Well, well," said O'Rhea, " you keep your weather eye 
 open and you'll be better than a clerk. And mind — come 
 to my shanty and tell me when the Master writes to the 
 Queen. But mum's the word ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 "dear queen — " 
 
 The Master received the truant with a grave serenity, 
 and O'Rhea, who declared he was " dying, Hutcheon — dying 
 of the ague in my bones," pleaded for the tenderest treat- 
 ment of Hamish, because he was a fanciful boy, who was 
 bound to have maggots in his head (" bees in his bonnet," 
 said the Master), but who had really no harm in him. The 
 Master offered his friend a bed for the night, since he could 
 not journey back that day to the house by the moss, but 
 O'Rhea thanked him and declined, saying that he was well 
 enough to go to his own shanty in the Bailie's bounds. So, 
 after partaking hurriedly of the Master's kail, he departed 
 and hastened to Tamson's, before that gritty and well-sanded 
 person should have gone off to the mill again. What passed 
 between him and Tamson ? What could have passed be- 
 tween two such past masters in the arts of humbug, chicane, 
 and self-advancement ? 
 
 And Hamish ? Hamish sat humbly under the Master's 
 
"DEAR QUEEN—" 175 
 
 grave displeasure, trying to take delight in Robinson Crusoe. 
 He continued to glance at the Master with a question — a 
 pressing question — in his throat ; but the Master was closely 
 occupied with repairing Kirsty Kyle's wag-at-the-wa' (he 
 was always making or mending for the folk, thereby un- 
 consciously fulfilling the Christian precept that he that will 
 be " chiefest shall be servant of all "), and Hamish feared to 
 open his mouth. By-and-by Hamish's sighs and sniffs and 
 fidgets attracted the Master's notice, and he turned gravely 
 to the boy and asked him if he was unwell. Then Hamish 
 opened his mouth, and out flew his question. 
 
 " Arena ye gaun to write to the Queen i " 
 
 " Write to the Queen ? " asked Hutcheon. " Wliat foi', 
 laddie ? " 
 
 " Ow, Maister," cried the boy, " to spier if we can gang 
 to Andaman ! " 
 
 The Master pushed Kirsty Kyle's clock aside, and 
 grasped his beard. 
 
 "Iha'ebeen thinking it over,'' said he, "and it strikes 
 me that the Queen may want a hantle o' siller for the feu o' 
 the place, laddie." 
 
 "But if we tell her," urged the boy, "that a' the folk are 
 sair hadden doun, and that M'Kay has the asthma, and Hay 
 a terrible hoast ? " 
 
 " Ay," said the Master, " that might touch her ; but she 
 lias a man, ye ken — the Prince Consort — Prince Albei-t — 
 and I doubt we should write to him about bits o' business, 
 and he might na care the twirl o' a teetotum for our 
 asthmas and boasts." 
 
 " But ye could write to the Queen," urged Hamish again, 
 " as if ye didna ken she had a man. I dinna like spiering 
 at men for things,'' said he shrewdly. " I'm feared for men, 
 but wives and ladies are good to me." 
 
 " Dod, laddie," said the Master with a grave, considering 
 smile, " that's no ill for you 1 Ye ha'e an auld-farrant head 
 on ye, and a canny notion or twa in't. Ye'll be right, I've 
 no doubt. It'll be the same like as some folk think it's 
 better to pray to the Virgin Mary. Sae skirt awa' wi' ye,'' 
 said he, putting his hand into his pocket, " and buy some 
 
176 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 note-paper and envelopes, the best cream, and we'll set 
 about the letter to the Queen." 
 
 Hamish flew with the money in his hand, downstairs, 
 out of the close, and away down the loan towards the town, 
 for no cream-laid could be bought in Ilkastane. His flying 
 feet were just turning the end of the loan, past Lucky 
 Fraser's dram-shop, when a voice hailed him. 
 
 " Hallo ! Heely, heely, my son, where are ye off to at 
 that rate ? " 
 
 It was the voice of O'Rhea. Hamish stopped. 
 
 "To buy cream paper," he answered in a tone of confi- 
 dence and haste ; " we're gaun to write to the Queen." 
 
 " Oh," said O'Ehea, and his eye flashed. " Away with 
 you then !." 
 
 In half-an-hour Hamish was returning at a weary trot, 
 and again O'Ehea met him. 
 
 " Haven't you been quick ! " said the big man, stopping 
 him and patting his shoulder. " So the letter's going to be 
 written. And you'll run to the post with it, I suppose. To 
 be sure you will, because, d'ye see, if you post it yourself 
 you'll be certain sure it'll go." 
 
 The Master's hand was little used to writing, its hold of 
 the pen was cramped and awkward. Btit he set himself to 
 his task with seriousness and deliberation, while Hamish 
 knelt on a chair on the other side of the table, Kirsty 
 Kyle's old clock lay silent on the carpenter's bench and 
 seemed to gaze up through the skylight, and the afternoon 
 sun shone through the little window that looked upon the 
 close. 
 
 " Oh," cried Hamish, " I wish I could write it, Mais- 
 tor." 
 
 " "Write instead o' me, d'ye mean, laddie ? That would 
 not be proper at all, for ' honour to whom honour is due ' ; 
 but if ye like ye can write a letter o' your ain." 
 
 " Can I ? " exclaimed Hamish, and in a twinkling he was 
 squared before a sheet of paper, with a steel pen in his hand. 
 The Master followed old ways and preferred a quill. 
 
 And this is the letter which Hamish evolved with infinite 
 pains : 
 
"DEAR QUEEN—" 177 
 
 " Dear Queen : I write these few lines to let you know 
 that we are in good health, hoping you are enjoying the 
 same great blessing, thank God for it." [Hamish thought 
 that was a polite formula with which every letter must 
 open.] " But I have to tell you that M'Kay has the asthma 
 and Hay a terrible hoast, and all the folks are sore holden 
 down with weaving the webs of the Bailie Lippen. Steven 
 by ordinar, because his weaving is coarse and he only gets 
 tvi^opence a yard. And the Master says the wives have too 
 muckle to do, and the bairns have not near enough porridge 
 and kail. So we would like terrible well to go to Andaman 
 and be wrecked and never come back — I mean me and the 
 Master and F. O. and all the rest — if your Gracious Majesty 
 would be so kind as to let us. So if you will, be so good as 
 write and say. — I remain your affectionate Boy and Subject, 
 
 "Hamish M'Cree. 
 
 " P. S. — The Master is the Master of Hutcheon, and he has 
 plenty of siller that his brother left him." 
 
 Hamish handed his letter proudly to the Master as soon 
 as it was firiished. 
 
 " What's this ? " exclaimed the Master. " ' Dear Queen ! ' 
 Ye maunna say that, laddie 1 Ye might be a crowned head 
 yoursel', writing like that ! " 
 
 " The schoolmaster says it's polite to begin wi' ' Dear,' " 
 said Hamish. 
 
 " But to the Queen, wha is a lang sight aboon ye, ye maun 
 be humble. Ye should say something like, ' May it please 
 Your Majesty,' or ' If it like Your Gracious Majesty.' " 
 
 "I've said 'Gracious Majesty' down there," exclaimed 
 Hamish eagerly. 
 
 " So ye have." The Master read on with a smile, but 
 without further comment until he reached the mention of 
 " F. O." Said he, "Wha's that ? Oh, ay, I mind. But wha 
 told ye that Fergus wants to go to Andaman ? I canna 
 believe it." 
 
 " He told me himsel'," said Hamish. 
 
 " Oh, he did, did he ? That beats me. But, oh, ay, your 
 
178 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 letter'll do fine. It'll be plain that it's v>'ritten out o' your 
 own head. Though I think ye must cut out ' write and 
 say.' Ye mustna ask a Queen to ' write and say ' ! The 
 Queen has servants and chamberlains and clerks to do 
 a'thing for her. Ye should write like a gentleman, and 
 leave it to the leddy whether she'll tak' any notice o' what 
 ye've written. Ye'd better make a clean sweep o' that. 
 Set your elbows straight, dight your pen neb, and at it again. 
 And no so many tirlie-wirlies at the end o' your words. 
 Just be simple and honest, upright and downright, wi' 
 your hooks and hangers. It looks more like the hand o' a 
 gentleman, and no so like the scrieve o' a bit clerk in an 
 office.'' 
 
 While Hamish was re-writing his letter the Master con- 
 tinued his own laborious composition. It was laborious 
 because he was unused to industry of that kind, and because 
 he was taking great pains to set down an exact statement. 
 But, in spite of the toilsomeness of his endeavour, cheerful- 
 ness and conviction grew as he went on ; for as he felt his 
 case take shape under his hand, he became completely as- 
 sured of its weight and worth, and as he made his petition 
 for leave to go to Andaman he easily slipped into the belief 
 that it was already as good as granted. So much so that 
 when he had finished he exclaimed, " There, now, that's 
 settled.-" 
 
 It would be tedious to set forth his letter in full, for it 
 covered ground already familiar to the reader, and it was 
 charged with utterances which the reader has already heard. 
 He quaintly and simply wrote at the head of his epistle, 
 " To Her Most Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria from her 
 loyal liege James, the Master of Hutcheon, with leal Hom- 
 age and Service." He then began, " Madam, Your Majesty 
 
 will knoiv ' all. in fact, about the Masters of Hutcheon, 
 
 taking it for granted that the roll of Her Majesty's nobility 
 must ever be before her, just as a Calvinist might suppose 
 that the names of the Elect dwell ever in the mind of God. 
 He reminded Her Majesty that the last publicly known 
 Master of Hutcheon had been attainted and his lands forfeit 
 for complicity in the '45 ; and he then went on to declare 
 
"DEAR QUEEN—" 179 
 
 how the attainted Master had hidden himself and his rank 
 and the few people who had fled with him among the 
 weavers of Ilkastane, how they finally became weavers and 
 dwelt there, and how they and theirs ever after felt bound 
 in gratitude to those who had received and befriended them. 
 That statement being- made as exactly and clearly as possi- 
 ble, he continued that, as the representative of his family, 
 lie reckoned himself responsible for these people and was 
 resolved to deliver them from the evils that in these latter 
 days were overtaking them. Their industry was being 
 filched from them more and more by machinery and steam, 
 and from bold, self-respecting freemen they were becoming 
 bond-slaves. He wished, therefore, to take them away from 
 all contact with the new things that oppressed them, and 
 he begged Her Majesty's permission to take them to that 
 island of Andaman of which he had heard. And finally he 
 declared himself ready to pay a reasonable sum to Her 
 Majesty — if Her Majesty so desired — for the feu of such 
 lands as they might need ; he presumed that " in a sauvage 
 island " like Andaman land could not yet have become very 
 costly. 
 
 All things being at length ready — his own and Hamish's 
 productions being gone through again, and then put into an 
 envelope — the Master sealed the packet with the great copper 
 seal that hung at his fob, addressed it to " Her Majesty, Queen 
 Victoria, at Windsor Castle, England," and said, "Now 
 we'll take it to the post." To that Hamish readily agreed ; 
 for surely it was better that the Master should keep him 
 company to the post than that he should go alone, as O'Rhea 
 had seemed to suggest. In those days there was but one 
 post-office, and that in the centre of Inverdoon, at the top of 
 Market Street, and thither the Master and his protege set 
 out by way of the noisome Burnside, where rats squealed 
 and splashed and fought for garbage. The darkness was 
 beginning to settle around, and to make the sights and 
 sounds of the Burnside more fearsome, so that Hamish was 
 glad of holding the Master's hand in comfortable security. 
 And the Master was lighter of speech and gayer of manner 
 than the boy had ever known him ; for with the writing of 
 
180 THE KINa OP ANDAMAX. 
 
 the letter he had purged his mind and heart of more oppres- 
 sion and hesitation than he had known had been there until 
 they were gone. Now he had done what man could do, and 
 lie felt confident of the issue. 
 
 It was probably because he was in that light and friendly 
 mood that he had no notable dislike and suspicion of Tam- 
 son's son, who came forward with a smile to the counter of 
 the post-office. 
 
 " Is that you, Tarn ? " was the Master's greeting. 
 
 "Ay, it's just me, Mester Hutcheon," answered Tarn. 
 "I'm clerk here," he added proudly. 
 
 "Ay, man," said the Master, glancing around the lofty 
 hall, " but it's a grand lift for your father's son. It's the 
 new way — from bauchels* to boots.'' 
 
 But the Master wished to buy stamps. " How many ? " 
 Tam Tamson asked. The master did not know. 
 
 " I'd better weigh your letter for ye," said Tam, holding 
 out his hand. 
 
 With a touch of reluctance, because he did not wish the 
 address to be seen, the Master handed over the packet, but 
 face downwards. Tam had the grace to weigh it without 
 looking at the superscription. But when he had weighed it 
 he turned it up with an apology. 
 
 " I maun see where it's going," said he, " or I canna tell 
 what stamps it'll need." 
 
 Upon that the Master blushed, but Tam did not change 
 countenance. He merely affixed the stamp, said how much 
 there was to pay, and put the letter aside. 
 
 " But," said the Master, " mustna I put the letter througli 
 the slit outside ? " 
 
 " It'll be safer here," said Tam ; " it'll be handier for go- 
 ing off." 
 
 * Bauchels ave the heelless slippers or cut-down shoes worn by weavers 
 at their work. 
 
now TAM WAS WON. 181 
 
 CHAPTEE XXI. 
 
 HOW TAM WAS WON. 
 
 Tam Tamson was a long youth of seventeen summers, 
 with a sharp nose, a thin slit of a mouth, a red head, a 
 smooth, conciliatory manner (even to little boys), and some- 
 thing of his father's genius for taking advantage of oppoi'- 
 tunities. At school he had read all the penny papers for 
 boys which were then beginning to flourish (he did not buy 
 them — he could not afford to — but he sat over them for 
 hours in the shop of his uncle, who combined the selling of 
 papers with the shaving of beards), and he retailed their 
 stories in the playground to a select circle, the members of 
 which each paid a halfpenny a week for the privilege of 
 listening. In that Tam (as became his origin) combined 
 pleasure with business ; his study of boys' papers was not 
 only a commercial speculation, it was also a labour of love. 
 He first read the stories because he enjoyed reading them, 
 and it was only by an after- thought that he made an income 
 by re-telling them. Of all tales he favoured the piratical, 
 and on school holidays he was the inspired leader (notwith- 
 standing his quiet, smooth demeanour) of a band of stra- 
 vaguing boys who infested the links and the sands and made 
 pretence of being stranded mariners on a desert shore ; and 
 the folk of the fishing village at the mouth of the river 
 never knew how near they had often been to the loss of a 
 boat, that these sham mariners might fulfil their most dar- 
 ing ambition. Of course these "ploys" were laid aside 
 when Tam became a clerk in the post-office — laid aside, but 
 not forgotten ; and it was his luck to have his memory of 
 them revived by conversation with the much-travelled 
 O'Ehea on the one or two occasions on which that remark- 
 able adventurer visited the home of the Tamsons. 
 
 In acquiring Tam as a confidential agent, O'Ehea showed 
 the faculty which great leaders have in choosing their in- 
 struments and setting them to work. Like a wary and judi- 
 cious plotter, he had made Tam ready to his hand before he 
 
182 THE KTNG OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 had known in what way or how soon he would need him. 
 He had perceived his bent, and had drawn it out and 
 strengthened it. With a considering and, as it were, admir- 
 ing eye on the red-headed^ sharp-nosed Tam, he had told the 
 story of Boyd, the great Scottish speculator in Australian 
 land, the head of the Royal Banking Company of Australia, 
 and the builder of Boydtown on Twofold Bay — Benjamin 
 Boyd — whose fate had been in everybody's mouth two or 
 three years before. 
 
 " The Scotchman is the billy to get on all over the world," 
 said O'Rhea, addressing Tam's father in a style which he 
 conceived was suited to his audience. " You remember 
 hearing of Boyd ? — Ben Boyd, that died the day before he'd 
 have been the richest man in the world through the finding 
 of gold in Australia ? Of course you remember. Well, he 
 began just a clerk, without a bawbee, like Tam here. Did 
 I know him ? Of course I knew him. I knew him in Aus- 
 tralia, when he was cocking his beaver over all the colony, 
 and I knew him out of Australia when he was at his best 
 and showed the fine stuff he was made of. Ay, bedad! 
 there's nobody like a Scotch Sandy for gripping on and get- 
 ting on. What do ye think Ben Boyd does when he is 
 broken up for the time in Australia ? He buys a fine top- 
 sail schooner, called The Wanderer, of two hundred and 
 forty tons register, fits her up handsome like a yacht, but 
 arms her well too, and fills her with trade stuff, and away 
 he sails out into the South Seas to trade among the islands, 
 and to do a little of anything else that might come in the 
 way of a free-handed gentleman." A few minutes later, 
 when he had chanced to have Tam alone, he had looked on 
 him with an approving smile, and said : " I can see what 
 you're thinking. You might be a Ben Boyd yourself ; but 
 do you know what the best part of Ben's time was ? The 
 last. In his top-sail schooner trading, and" — Ifeaning for- 
 ward and speaking in a whisper — " buccaneering a bit. I 
 see you're a lad of understanding and wide reading. You 
 know all about buccaneering, for you've read it, and the piles 
 of doubloons you can make, and I know all about trading 
 in the South Seas, for I've sailed them, and I know more 
 
HOW TAM WAS WON. 183 
 
 than that. I know what fortunes we could make and what 
 fun we could have if we had a schooner like The Wanderer, 
 and a devilish proper lad or two. We'll have a downright 
 crony crack about that some day ; and ye needn't tell your 
 father, my son." 
 
 So on this memorable day when he had tramped in with 
 Hamish from the house by the moss, and a plan of aggran- 
 disement sprang ready armed from his head, as Minerva 
 sprang from the brain of Jupiter, or rather as sin from the 
 head of the Satan of Milton, O'Ehea blessed himself that 
 he had had the foresight to make friends with Tamson's 
 son, for he perceived that he was the very person to serve 
 his immediate turn. When he had made sure that a letter 
 to the Queen was going to be written, he dragged his stiff, 
 rheumatic joints into the town and to the post-office. He 
 entered to buy a stamp and to see Tarn Tamson. Tam was 
 behind the counter and came forward when he saw O'Rhea. 
 
 " Give me a Queen's head, Tam, my son," said O'Rhea, 
 leaning over the counter ; " and — here — oblige me with five 
 minutes' conversation outside." 
 
 " I mustna go out," answered Tam. " What do ye want 
 to say ? Canna ye say't here ? " 
 
 O'Rhea reflected a moment. He could not well say there 
 all he wished to say. He could not produce all the effect 
 he wished to produce. 
 
 " No," he answered ; " it can't be done here. Ye must 
 manage to get five minutes off. Say your uncle is on the 
 point of sailing for the Gold Coast, and he wants to kiss ye 
 before he goes — say anything, but come out and have a pri- 
 vate word, or you'll ever after rue ye didn't, for this very 
 day your fortune has begun to shoot up like young corn." 
 
 " If ye can wait half an hour," said Tam, " I'll ha'e my 
 tea-time. Will that do ? " 
 
 O'Rhea said that that arrangement must do, if no other 
 was available, and told Tam to come to him at the end of 
 the half-hour, across the way at the door of the market. 
 And so he departed to wait the expiry of the half-hour. The 
 market was a busy place, a great and comprehensive build- 
 ing. The basement was given over to the stalls of venders 
 
184 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 of fish, wet and dry, the next floor to fieshers (or butchers) 
 and green-grocers, the gallery above that to booksellers and 
 dealers in fancy wares, and the gallery above that again to 
 other sorts of merchants. O'Ehea wandered into the base- 
 ment and the babel of the fishwives, who sat by their creels 
 knitting stockings, now gossiping in a loud voice with each 
 other and now inviting the passers-by to purchase their 
 wares. 
 
 " Come awa', my bonnie man," they called to O'Rhea in 
 the sing-song tone peculiar to the fisher-folk, " and buy my 
 dulse * and bather-locks. Buy finnan baddies the day ; buy 
 fine dry speldrins." t 
 
 He bought a pennyworth of dulse, and began to munch 
 it ; and the odour and savour of the sea went over him like 
 ■ a wave. 
 
 " Thank God, wifie," said he, "for the wide salt sea ! " 
 
 ''Ay, my man," said the fishwife, "and for a' the caller 
 fish intil't, wi' their wide-open een and their bonny red gills, 
 and for the labsters and partans and the Greenland whales. 
 Ay, the sea's a grand place, though bonnie lads get drowned 
 in't whiles, and the labsters and partans get fine farin' ! 
 Ye'll be a sailor man yoursel', and for the sea the night, 
 maybe. Buy some finnan baddies, saxpence the bunch, just 
 for a last jink afore ye put to sea ; or buy some speldrins to 
 eat to your last dram wi' your cronies on the shore ; I'se 
 warrant them grand for provoking a thirst.'' 
 
 " I'm not for the sea to-night, my woman," said O'Rhea, 
 " nor for your baddies nor speldrins." 
 
 He received his change and passed on. Certain of the 
 fishwife's words pleased him, while others disturbed him 
 not a little. He did not relish being reminded just then of 
 the dangers and horrors of the sea, but he was content that 
 he seemed a sailor man, for that was the appeaa-ance that he 
 especially wished to wear. There was much of the actor in 
 him, and being assured that he looked like a sailor he began 
 to think in sea phrases and to prepare to conduct his inter- 
 
 * Edible seaweed, or sea celery, 
 t Salted and sun-dried whitings. 
 
HOW TAM WAS WON. 185 
 
 view with Tain Tamson as a bold buccaneer. He gave 
 thought to the kind of thing he must say to Tam, for he 
 had absolute need of Tarn's assistance, and he suspected that 
 Tam would not be won over to his aid with complete ease. 
 Tam, in spite of his youth and apparent ductility, had the 
 eye of experienced and furtive timidity, and the nose of in- 
 herited and practised obstinacy. 
 
 He walked here and there in the babel and munched his 
 dulse ; and though he could not believe it possible that the 
 letter to the Queen could come to the post so early, he 
 made one or two excursions to the street to observe who 
 entered the post-office. At the end of the half-hour Tam 
 came. That he might not lose all the nutritive advantage 
 of his tea-time, he asked O'Rhea to " bide a wee " while he 
 bought something. He returned with speed, and they began 
 their interview, pacing the basement, the one munching 
 dulse and the other eating a scone. Tam said nothing but 
 " I've got a quarter of an hour," and looked to O'Rhea to 
 begin. O'Rhea glanced at him with a kind of ardour of 
 surprise and admiration. 
 
 " Only a quarter of an hour for tea ! " he exclaimed. " But 
 I know you. A clever son of a gun like you would never 
 stop in a small little berth like that if he hadn't his eye on 
 a big thing in the future. That's all right and taut. But 
 tlie future, my son, takes a long while and hard work to warp 
 up to. Now, we've had a crack or two, you and me, and 
 we understand each other. I understand you, and though 
 you've never said it in so many words, I believe you'd have 
 no objection to take a short cut to fortune, so long as it's 
 safe." 
 
 " I should just think I hadna ! " exclaimed Tam. 
 
 " Right you are," said O'Rhea, " and keep yourself up to 
 wind'ard. Now I must plump into business, because the 
 time's short. I'm trusting you more than I've ever trusted 
 any mother's son. I like you, and I've taken to you, and I 
 want you to share in a big thing I mean to pull off. First 
 of all, I must have your word that you keep all we say to 
 yourself — not a breath of it even to your father." Suspect- 
 ing a shrinking of timidity in Tam, he continued, "Not 
 13 
 
186 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 that I'm afraid, but because, as you'll see presently, it would 
 spoil everything if our business got talked about." Tarn 
 promised the strictest secrecy, and O'Ehea went on. "To 
 begin with, the word is ' Hutcheon.' Aha, ye don't like 
 it ; and you've reason, I grant ye. All the better for this 
 business, my son. Hutcheon has had a fortune left him by 
 his brother, and you and me, my son, are going to have a 
 hand in the spending of it. Twenty thousand pounds ! A 
 nice round sum to put to sea with, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Twenty thousand ! " exclaimed Tam, while he stopped 
 and blinked and winked in amazement. " No ! Ye dinna 
 say that ! " 
 
 '' Every figure of it ; two and four noughts." 
 
 " Crikey ! " cried Tam in the extremity of wonder ; for he 
 cherished the hope some day of having a hundred pounds a 
 year as a well-rounded comfortable income, just as pushing 
 young men in these days and farther south think of a thou- 
 sand. " But in whatna way can we meddle wi't? " he asked 
 with avid attention. 
 
 Then in short, clear, business-like sentences O'Ehea told 
 Tam of the Master's desire to carry the folk to Andaman, 
 and of his own intention to work that desire to his own 
 pleasure and profit and to the profit and delight of the ad- 
 venturous young man whom he was then taking into his 
 confidence. 
 
 How would he manage that? asked Tam. 
 
 "How will we manage that? I'm going to work heart 
 and soul for this Andaman idea; I'm going to become 
 Hutcheon's devoted right-hand man, and you're going to be 
 mine; I'm going to get the working of all the ropes, and 
 when we've sailed away over the high seas we're going to 
 say ' Good-bye ' to Hutcheon and his old folk. Ye under- 
 stand what I mean? " 
 
 " Fine that," answered Tam. 
 
 " Well, and then we're going to sail away to the South 
 Seas to attend to our own business, d'ye see? and to enjoy 
 ourselves as only bold adventurers can." 
 
 " Ye mean ye'd mutiny," said Tam, with a tight mouth 
 and a timid shake of the head. 
 
HOW TAM WAS WON. 187 
 
 " Mutiny ? Not a bit of it. That'll be all right ; trust me. 
 We can't say any more about it now, because there isn't 
 time, d'ye see? But we'll sail away for a life on the ocean 
 
 wave ; we'll have the plunder, and we'll find the girls " 
 
 Tam uttered a shy, hysterical laugh. "We'll splice the 
 main-brace for a spell, and give everybody a free gangway, 
 and then away we'll stand under every stitch to fish for 
 moidores and doubloons and pieces of eight." 
 
 Tam was more than satisfied ; he seemed elated. Then 
 O'Rhea made his critical revelation and request. He told 
 him of the letter to the Queen (he did not say that he had 
 prompted it) and of the absolute necessity of intercepting 
 it. Was it not evident that if the letter were permitted to go 
 to the Queen, Hutcheon would never set out for Andaman? 
 and would not Tam, therefore, contrive to get the letter into 
 his possession? At that suggestion Tam shied with the 
 greatest timidity. It would be robbery ! It would be a 
 dreadful offence to commit ! He would lose his place ! 
 He would be tried in Court ! He would be put in prison — 
 if he did that and were found out ! 
 
 " But ye won't be found out," said O'Rhea. " Why should 
 ye, a clever lad like you? Look ye here ! " and he clutched 
 Tam by the arm and set forth to him how easily the thing 
 could be done ; but Tam trembled and shivered and shook his 
 head, till O'Rhea was beside himself. " Well, my son,'' said 
 he, stopping in a breathless sadness and wiping his forehead, 
 " I did think we'd pull this off together. The game won't 
 come off at all if ye let that letter go ; that's plain. You 
 and me'll go on as we are to the end of our days ; you know 
 what the poet says, ' There is a tide in the affairs of men, 
 which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune ; omitted,' — • 
 there you are just as you were ! I did think -we two, you 
 and me, were meant to understand one another ; but no, 
 we're only 'doomed for awhile to walk this earth,' and 
 squeeze the orange dry. All right. We ought to find little 
 gold pieces like that " — he took from his waistcoat pocket 
 and exhibited a five-franc gold piece — " as plentiful as shells 
 on the shore ; but we won't. Take it and keep it in memory 
 of our talk. I've no use for it." 
 
188 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 "Weel, weel," said Tam, screwing his courage to the 
 sticking place, and greedily looking at and fingering the 
 little coin, " look here, I'll try." 
 
 " Try ! " exclaimed O'Rhea, as if in a fury of desperation. 
 " Try ! ' Try ' be damned ! What d'ye mean by ' try ' ? I 
 want somebody not to try to do a thing, but to promise me 
 to do it ! " 
 
 "Weel," said Tam, stiff with resolution, "I'll do't." 
 
 "That's right," said O'Ehea. "And ye've only decided 
 in time, for your quarter of an hour's up. Bring the letter 
 to my shanty to-night, and we'll read it, and see what more's 
 to be done." 
 
 And Tam went his way, insidiously bought with a five- 
 franc piece, which to his ignorantly piratical mind was 
 tinged with the romance of doubloons and pieces of eight. 
 He performed his pact as we have seen, finding, as the un- 
 tried soldier finds, his terror and trembling disappear in the 
 encounter which he dreaded. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 "on her majesty's service." 
 
 HuTCHEON waited with the seemliest patience for the 
 Eoyal answer to his letter ; but his show of patience might 
 have been less had it not been for the impatience of Hamish, 
 who could not refrain from exclaiming, " D'ye think it'll 
 come the day? Oh, I wish it would come ! Oh, I hope she 
 winna forget ! " and running out at ill-judged intervals to 
 look for the postman. Hutcheon had, however, to find an 
 outlet for his restlessness of body, and to that end he set to 
 and dug over the kail and potato patches of such of the 
 weavers as had been too much occupied with their looms 
 to have had time to handle a spade. Then there came some- 
 thing to divert his thoughts altogether. The soft-footed 
 
"ON HER MAJESTY'S SERVICE." 189 
 
 Jaques brought a note which caused the Master emotion 
 and amazement. It was addressed on the outside to " The 
 Master of Hutcheon,'' and written within on smooth, thick 
 paper in a lady's angular hand. It was signed " Aimee 
 Lepine," and that was enough to send a gush of blood to 
 his heart and thence to his head. But it was the matter of 
 the note that amazed him. It requested the honour of his 
 company to dinner at seven o'clock the following evening, 
 and the favour of an answer by the hand of Jaques ! 
 Hutcheon had never in his life dined out, and how was he 
 to do it now? He exchanged some very polite words with 
 Jaques on the subject. 
 
 "I am not used to company," said the Master. 
 
 " Ah, mats oui," said Jaques, ^'M^sieu le Maitre have 
 choose to be original, eccentric ; it is, without doubt, very 
 amusing, very nice, but — mais " 
 
 " And I aye take my dinner early in the afternoon,'' said 
 the Master, " on the chap o' two ; I doubt it'll stick me to 
 take another dinner at seven o'clock at night." 
 
 "Call it supper, M^sieu le Mattre" said Jaques, with the 
 shadow of a smile. " It is equal ; it is the name, is it not ? " 
 
 " I doubt the name wouldna deceive the stomach, for all 
 the supper it knows is a bit bannock and butter, and that a 
 long while after seven o'clock. I daresay Miss Aimee and 
 the Bailie wouldna like me to say I could not go ? '' 
 
 " Oh, M^sieu le Maitre, they would be desolate, Sfsieu le 
 Bailli and Mademoiselle Aimee. The dinner is in honour 
 of M^sieu le Maitre, if M^sieu le Maitre will permit that I 
 say it. But M''sieu le Bailli will make the hour of dinner 
 the hour what pleases M'sieu le Maitre, for M^sieu le Bailli 
 know what honour it is due to M'sieu le Mattre." 
 
 " I wouldna think of such a thing ! " exclaimed the Mas- 
 ter. "To put anybody by their meal-time just to please 
 myself ! No, no. Let it be seven o'clock, and I'll make the 
 less of my own dinner to do honour to the Bailie's," said he, 
 with a smile. 
 
 So he wrote a note in reply, and, without his designing 
 that it should be so, it had a tone of condescension which 
 did him no harm with the Bailie. 
 
190 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 " Madam," he wrote, " I will pleasure myself by taking 
 dinner with you and the Bailie, according to the terms of 
 your invitation.'' 
 
 It was only when Jaques was gone that the Master re- 
 flected he had engaged to sit down to food with a man 
 whom a week or two ago he had regarded as the enemy of 
 all his interests. He still, he believed, considered the Bailie 
 an enemy, and he told himself that he had engaged to sit at 
 meat with him only to please Miss Aimee. 
 
 His next concern was to make a proper appearance at 
 the dinner given in his honour ; for he felt rightly that a 
 gentleman owes that as miuch to himself as to his host and 
 hostess. He was troubled to decide what he should wear. 
 He was commonly fastidious only about his linen (he had 
 one or two very elegant shirts with frilled cambric fronts), 
 his outer clothing being hodden grey or coarse blue both 
 Saturday and Sunday. Neither grey nor blue would fulfil 
 the sudden demand made on his appearance, and he had no 
 knowledge, or at least no recognition, of the possibility of 
 making up deficiencies of dress without delay by "ready- 
 made " garments from some tailor in the town. What, then, 
 was he to do ? He went ben to his bedroom, and opened 
 an old leather trunk, in which reposed several suits of 
 clothing that had belonged to his father and grandfather. 
 He took them out and tried the coats one after another, but 
 though they all fitted him none became him. His un- 
 shaven face, as he declared to himself, was ill to match. 
 Then he came upon a complete Highland outfit of the Gor- 
 don colours which he had almost forgotten. It was some- 
 what soiled, and he was pleased to fancy (though he was 
 probably wrong) that in that dress his grandfather had 
 fought at Culloden. He arrayed himself in it, and found 
 it became both his person and his beard. But yet he would 
 not wear it, for, like David in Saul's armour, he had not 
 proved it. He had never worn the Highland dress, he did 
 not feel at all warlike, and he had no desire to appear so 
 unlike himself. He finally let his choice settle on a suit of 
 his grandfather's which was something after the style of a 
 court suit of to-day. It consisted of a coat of black silk, the 
 
"ON PIEE MAJESTY'S SERVICE." 191 
 
 skirt of which was cut somewhat away, a waistcoat, knee 
 breeches and stockings of the same material, and silver- 
 buckled shoes with square toes. 
 
 Fortunately it was dark when he set out arrayed for the 
 dinner at the Bailie's, or the inhabitants of the houses in the 
 loan would have expressed amazement to see him in such a 
 guise. There was no amazement on his appearance at 
 Corbie Ha' ; attentive and critical eyes were cast upon his 
 person, but the Bailie and his family, besides that they were 
 too polite, were also too convinced of the Master's eccen- 
 tricity to express surprise. Soon they became used to his 
 appearance, and accepted it as very proper and becoming 
 for a gentleman of position and lineage. Aimee was 
 especially of that opinion, and indirectly she expressed it. 
 She addressed her father, but she turned a referring eye on 
 the Master. 
 
 "I think, father," Said she, ' most men must be stupid — 
 very. Why do they put on, without saying a word of ob- 
 jection, the things the tailor gives them ? It is evident 
 that gentlemen — true gentlemen — did at one time think of 
 their dress as ladies do — why should they not ? — and 
 wear things that were beautiful. How long is it, father, 
 since men began to wear ugly tubes of cloth on their 
 legs ? " 
 
 The Bailie did not remember, did not think it worth 
 while to try to remember. He only knew that he had al- 
 ways been glad to be comfortable and warm, without fash- 
 ing himself whether what he wore was beautiful ; and, mon 
 Dieu! when he was a young man it was barely possible 
 for him to get clothes at all. Then the Master, interested, 
 inquired concerning that time, and the Bailie rummaged 
 in the background of his memory for stories of the great 
 Napoleon and the Revolution ; whereupon the Master re- 
 membered and related how fond the Chartists were of the 
 air of the Marseillaise, and how his brother had played 
 it on the flute. And then the Master almost attained a 
 quarrel with the Bailie. With a polite preface of " excuse 
 me," the latter ventured to express his wonder that young 
 men like the Master and his brother, men of family, sons 
 
192 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 of the noblesse, aristocrats, should have meddled with, 
 had a hand in, so low and mean a movement as Chart- 
 ism. 
 
 "There were a good many aristocrats, sons of the no- 
 blesse," said George, who had read Carlyle, " took the peo- 
 ple's side in your Eevolution, father.'' 
 
 "Speaking for myself," said the Master, "I think I 
 was a Chartist more because our folk needed some help 
 than because I kenned or cared anything about Chart- 
 ism.'' 
 
 " You mean, m'siew,'' said the Bailie, " the weavers of 
 Ilkastane ? You will permit, M^sieu le Mattre, that I again 
 wonder that you fash yourself so much about the .weav- 
 ers. They are canaille ; they are low people ; they are no 
 good." 
 
 These were the words that provoked the Master, so that 
 he had to look round to remark the presence of Aimee, and 
 to remember he sat as a guest before he was able to speak 
 calmly. He repeated to the Bailie what he had already told 
 him — that he was especially bound to see that these folk of 
 Ilkastane were not oppressed, because of the ancient connec- 
 tion between their fathers and his own ; but, more than that, 
 he declared that he could not agree to call any poor, strug- 
 gling, starving work-folk "low people." 
 
 " It's not just fair. Bailie," said he. " With your trocking 
 and trading, your mills and your steam-engines, ye take 
 from them their means of living, and syne ye blame them 
 for not being so nice and canny as ye'd like; ye make 
 slaves of them, and ye're surprised they're not freemen ; 
 ye ding them over, and syne miscall them for not stand- 
 ing up." 
 
 "I know, M'sieii le Mattre,'" said the Bailie, "that you 
 think all business, commerce, affairs, is bad, wicked, and 
 you have wished to hang to the gibbet the men who have 
 the business or the manufacture," added he with a conscious 
 smile. 
 
 "I'd hang them," the Master astonished the Bailie by 
 asseverating, "as high as Haman, wherever I found them 
 weighing down to the earth the folk that work for them and 
 
"ON HER MAJESTY'S SERVICE." 193 
 
 squeezing' the life out of them. But ye mistake me, Bailie, 
 if ye think I'd have no business done at all. I'd have it 
 done justly and fairly, though ; " and the Master went on to 
 give his opinion that business and manufacture, as they were 
 being conducted, would end by ruining both the people and 
 themselves ; to which the Bailie replied with a shrug that he 
 did not trouble to look so forward ; he applied himself to 
 his business and left the future alone. Him, he was not a 
 politician. 
 
 "But," he ended by declaring, "in this world one must 
 eat or be eaten. A bon chat bon rat. Me, I prefer not to 
 be eaten. A bon chat bon rat. Voila tout." 
 
 It was not till they were in the drawing-room — the room 
 in which the Master had already sat and talked with Aimee 
 and examined the atlas and discovered " British Possessions 
 coloured red," that Aimee and the Master had sufficient op- 
 portunity to consider or to talk to each other. Aimee first 
 sat down to the piano to play at her father's request. 
 
 "Amuse M'sieu le Maitre, ma cMre,^' said the Bailie 
 in his native speech. "Play to him some morsels of his 
 songs of Burns." 
 
 " Out, mon papa," answered Aimee, and forthwith sang 
 and played most tenderly the Jacobite song, " Wae's me for 
 Prince Charlie ! " 
 
 The Master stood near and listened entranced, with a 
 thrill through all his marrow and a thumping of the heart. 
 Never before had he heard such singing and such playing. 
 He glanced round to see if the others were equally affected, 
 and was amazed to note that the music seemed to be a 
 signal for the Bailie to lean back in his easy chair and go 
 to sleep, and for George to draw closer to Elsie M'Cree 
 over some engravings. (Elsie had also sat by George at 
 dinner, somewhat to the Master's surprise.) But the Mas- 
 ter quickly forgave them their inattention, for he felt then 
 that he had that bonnie bird, that sweet singer, all to him- 
 self. He could listen to her wonderful voice, and take de- 
 light in every turn and poise of her pretty head and arms 
 without thinking of these others at all. When the plaintive 
 Jacobite air was finished she dashed into a martial measure 
 
194 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 without giving him time to utter a word of compliment. 
 Involuntarily he beat time with his foot : 
 
 " March, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale ! 
 
 All the blue bonnets are over the border ! " 
 
 The Master was surprised, but well pleased enough, that 
 even those strains did not disturb the occupations of the 
 others. Elsie M'Oree, indeed, looked for a rebellious instant 
 or two as if she would rather listen to the music than talk, 
 but her lover reclaimed her attention, and the Bailie slum- 
 bered on ; and the Master felt more and more that for the 
 time there were only this singing bird and himself in the 
 world. 
 
 "But," said he, when she turned to him with a smile at 
 the end of her second song, " ye're not a French young lady 
 at all, but just a Scots lass of our ain countree ! For never 
 before have I heard they songs sung like that. And now. 
 Miss Aimee, if ye're not tired, I would like fine to hear ye 
 sing another song — not a Jacobite song this time, nothing 
 about Charlies and chieftains, but just a real Burns song, 
 ' A man's a man for a' that ! ' " 
 
 She sang him the song of his choice, and he thanked 
 her, and still the others remained occupied in their own 
 way. 
 
 " Do you not like the Jacobite songs ? " she asked him, 
 while he still stood bending over her. 
 
 " I like them fine," said he ; " they're grand songs, who- 
 ever made them. They make the heart burn and loup and 
 the foot skip ; but I like the other better.'' 
 
 " ' Is there for honest poverty that hangs his head and 
 a' that ? ' " she repeated with a smile. " You like very much 
 the poor people, then ? " 
 
 " Them that I know," the Master answered carefully. 
 " And for very good reasons, Miss Aimee. I know what for 
 they are poor, them and their fathers afore them ; and more 
 than that, I know all they go through now without a word 
 of complaining, just as if it were the will of God instead of 
 the greed and oppression of man. Oh, ay. Miss Aimee, I 
 
"ON HER MAJESTY'S SERVICE." I95 
 
 know my own poor folk fine, for I have lived all my life 
 among them." 
 
 " Well," said Aimee, doubtfully, " they frightened me." 
 
 " They did ? " exclaimed the Master. " "When that ? " 
 
 " I must tell you," said she. " After you told me about 
 your people and that you would take them away, perhaps 
 to the islands of Andaman, I went into the loan ; I was 
 curious. I wished to see your people. And they made me 
 afraid." 
 
 "You were disappointed," said he, with a rare indulgent 
 smile. " Yes, they're not very civil to strangers ; they're 
 unco jealous of strangers coming to look at them." 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Aimee sharply, as if she were touched to 
 the quick by the memory of her grievance, " they were rude. 
 They came to the doors with children ; the women re- 
 garded me much in the dress, and the men regarded me in 
 the face. They spoke not a word except among them. 
 They said, ' It will be the Bailie Lepine's daughter ; what 
 will she be seeking here ? She's a gey small creature.' Am 
 I so very little, do you think ? " 
 
 And what could the Master say then but that she was 
 not very little, that she was just a " nice size ? " Yet he 
 said more than that. 
 
 " And if ye are smaller than most Scots lasses, what does 
 that matter ? " said he eloquently and boldly, and with a 
 light in his eyes which made Aimee look down. " Is not 
 the mavis smaller than the corbie ? and is not a golden 
 sovereign smaller than a copper penny ? The folk mean no 
 harm though ; they're a bit dour, but you and they would 
 be fine friends if ye knew one another better. Oh, yes, ye'd 
 like them fine if ye knew thein and knew what they had 
 been. There's Loudon, now ; to see him — a poor, quiet, 
 frightened auld man, thumping his lay and shaking his 
 head and saying nothing — ye'd never think he'd been a 
 sergeant in the gallant Forty-twa; and there's M'Kay, 
 wheezing like a broken bellows, ye'd never think he'd been 
 a drummer at the battle o' Waterloo ; and Hay, Black Don- 
 ald, Donuil Dhu — a man that's aye dying and that never 
 dies — who could guess that afore the last Chartist year, when 
 
196 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 all the folk were starving and were fain to feed on nettle- 
 broth, he was the strongest man in all the country-side — the 
 grandest at putting the stone and tossing the caber ! And 
 there's Geordie Steven, with but one e'e ; he lost the other 
 in the Afghan war. I think ye'd like him ; oh, yes, I think 
 ye'd like him fine ; he has a good heart and a daft head, has 
 Steven ; oh, I think ye'd find Steven amusing. And the 
 wives — well, they have a hard time o't. They are at the 
 wheel morning and night ; they're taken up with their men 
 and their bairns ; and what more can ye expect of them ? 
 They say little, and when they say anything their tongues 
 are rough ; but they're not bad women. There's auld 
 Kirsty Kyle, now ; she has a tongue like any file, but she has 
 the best heart in the world. She's always helping her 
 neighbours — and that's the Law and the Gospel, as folk say 
 — and once she came and nursed me when I had to take to 
 my bed." 
 
 " I should like to know her ! " exclaimed Aimee, with a 
 quick touch of sympathy. 
 
 " Will ye come and see her ? " asked the Master readily. 
 "Come, and I'll go with you among them I know best, 
 and I'm sure they'd be glad to see ye, and ye'd like them 
 fine." 
 
 "Oh, yes," said she, thinking of him as the Master 
 clothed with authority over these people. " I should like to 
 go among them with you." 
 
 Presently she asked him why all these people had different 
 names, since they were the descendants of the followers and 
 retainers of his forefathers ; were they not all of one clan ? 
 And he answered that that was a difficult question, but he 
 did not suppose that they had been originally of one clan ; 
 it was a very long time since the clans had lived distinctly 
 separate, if they had ever really done so. 
 
 "And names," said he, " are kittle things. There's Hew 
 Tamson, now — he is truly a Campbell, I believe— one o' the 
 crafty, treacherous, red-headed Campbells — but some one or 
 other o' his forbears has been called Tam, and his son 
 would be called Tamson, and syne when they come to the 
 Lowlands the 'Campbell' would be forgotten altogether. 
 
"ON HER MAJESTY'S SERVICE." 197 
 
 And there's myself. My name is Hutcheon — Hutcheon of 
 Hutcheon — but really and truly my forbears belonged to 
 the clan Gordon." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Aimee, "to the mad Gordons, like Lord 
 Byron ? " 
 
 " Ay," said he with a smile ; " just that — to the mad 
 Gordons." 
 
 Thus they talked ; but it truly mattered little what they 
 said, for each was involved in the snare of the other's attrac- 
 tion, and all subjects were alike of interest that gave them 
 excuse for remaining near each other, seeing each other's 
 glance and hearing each other's voice. And still the father 
 slumbered on, and the brother was closely involved in his 
 own snare, and these two — the Master and Aimee — were as 
 if alone together, without the embarrassment of being truly 
 alone. They were by themselves in a little world of light 
 and joy, and each to the other was radiant with life and 
 loveliness. 
 
 Presently, however, the Bailie woke up to say, "It is 
 very nice, ma chere ; it is very good song, and very pretty. 
 Do M'sieu le Maitre like it ? " 
 
 And thus it came about, with that talk about the Mas- 
 ter's folk, that next day he and the Bailie's daughter were 
 together when a great event happened. The Master was 
 leading Aimee round to make the acquaintance of Kirsty 
 Kyle and others, and Hamish, beside himself with excite- 
 ment, followed them about as a kind of incense-bearing 
 acolyte. Hamish was so much taken up with the presence 
 of the fairy Princess of Corbie Ha' that he completely 
 forgot the occupation that had held him for several days. 
 They were in the weaving-shop, all three, when the post- 
 man in his scarlet coat passed the window and hammered 
 with the head of his staff on the outer door, according to his 
 wont. 
 
 "James," he called in stentorian tones, "the Master of 
 Hutcheon ! " 
 
 " Oh, the letter, Hutcheon, the letter ! " cried Hamish, 
 dancing in his excitement. 
 
 The Master went out to the door. 
 
198 THT5 KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 "Are ye," asked the postman, "James, the Master of 
 Hutcheon ? " 
 
 " I am just that," answered the Master. " There's no wale 
 o' Masters here." 
 
 " On Her Majesty's Service,'''' said the postman, present- 
 ing a big blue envelope, and staring hard before he departed 
 on his way. 
 
 " It hasna got a Queen's head," said Hamisli, standing 
 on tip-toe to see the face of the letter, " 'cause it's frae the 
 Queen ! Oh, read it, Hutcheon, read it ! " 
 
 Hutcheon looked at the boy as if he feared to open it. 
 He turned to Miss Lepine, who had followed him out of the 
 weaving-shop. 
 
 " I have a letter," said he, " I would like to read. Would 
 ye mind. Miss Lepine, coming up the stairs and sitting 
 down while I read it ? " 
 
 So, in a second or two, Aimee, to her amazement, was 
 seated in the Master's garret, gazing at his fireplace, gazing 
 at his skylight, gazing at his carpenter's bench, wondering 
 at the meanness of the place compared with the greatness of 
 the Master, while he opened his letter and began to read 
 half aloud, and Hamish stood by with ears, eyes, and mouth 
 open to catch everything stirring. 
 
 " Gracious mercy ! " exclaimed the Master. " What's 
 this ? " 
 
 It was not a letter ; it was a great sheet of foolscap with 
 a seal at the bottom, and with here and there on the page a 
 word in strange, old-English letters. 
 
 "W/i.ereas" [Hutcheon was sure that must be the open- 
 ing word, in spite of its angular illegibility] " our trusty 
 liege, James, the Master of Hutcheon, has petitioned us on 
 behalf o/" [there were some words the Master could not 
 well make out in his eager and astonished first reading] . . . 
 "io our islands of Andaman. . . . 'We, Victoria, by the 
 Grace of God, Queen of Great Britain and Ireland, appoint 
 and command our liege, the said James, the Master of 
 Hutcheon, to proceed with . . . to the Great Andaman, and 
 to have and to hold . . . tvith all the appurtenances and 
 
VIEWS OP KINGSHIP. 199 
 
 perquisites thereof, under the ancient title and designa- 
 tion of ... or King of Andaman.''' 
 
 That was what the Master read skippingly, his tone 
 becoming louder, faster, and more surprised as he pro- 
 ceeded. 
 
 " Most astonishing ! " said he, when he had finished, and 
 stood gazing from one to the other of his companions. 
 " But what does it mean ? " 
 
 "It means, M'sieu le Maitre," said Aimee, rising in 
 wonder, surely it means that the Queen has made you a 
 King — the King of Andaman ! " 
 
 "Oh," exclaimed Hamish, capering in delight. "The 
 Queen has made the Maister a King ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 VIEWS OF KINQSHIP. 
 
 " This," said the Master, " is the strangest and most as- 
 tonishing thing I ever heard ! " 
 
 " You did not expect it ? " said Aimee. 
 
 "Expect it? No!" 
 
 " Then, of course," said Aimee, "it surprises you, M'sieu 
 le Maitre. But," she continued persuasively, " it is not 
 truly surprising that the Queen should ask you to go to be 
 King of Andaman. You are here Master of Hutcheon, and 
 if you please, can it be more to be king of a savage isle than 
 to be Master here ? I think truly it cannot be much more. 
 It is not a very great honour that the Queen has added to 
 you, Hfsieu le Maitre ! " 
 
 "Oh, it's a great honour for sure," said he. "And I'm 
 thinking it has come about like this : The Queen wants me 
 to be in complete authority there when I take the folk out, 
 and not to have any governor or lord over me. Oh, yes, I 
 think it's very kind of her.'' 
 
200 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 " And you will go ? " asked Aimee, wistfully. 
 
 "To be sure, Miss Lepine," he exclaimed. "I must go 
 when I get orders like that. Forbye that I have already 
 asked if I might take the folk there." 
 
 " It is very bad ! " she burst forth, turning her head 
 away. " I am desolate ! I only begin to make acquaintance 
 with you, and you will go away — far away ! — and you will 
 come back never ! Why did I make acquaintance if it will 
 finish in this manner ? This is a place horrible ! It has no 
 nice people ! Why is it so difficult to have people and 
 things as one loves them to be ? " 
 
 What was it she said ? The Master grew red as the 
 possible meaning of her words flashed on him, and his 
 brain and heart were caught in a whirl which mingled her 
 warm words with those of the astonishing letter. Was she 
 saying that she was glad she knew him, and that she would 
 be sorry if he went away and she saw him no more ? Was 
 she — the winsome bird ! — frankly and simply letting him 
 know that she liked him ? And what if he said to her that 
 their acquaintance need not end ? What if he should ask 
 her to go away with him to that land of promise ? What if 
 he should put forth his hand to her — gently and softly so as 
 not to alarm her — and take her as she stood there, and say, 
 " Come with me, and let us go away and be king and queen 
 together ? " What if she might be prevailed on to go and 
 be always with him, — his sweet singer, his humming-bird 
 of beauty ? Then — the hope was too delirious ! — then 
 Heaven could give no greater happiness, no fuller fulfil- 
 ment of all he had planned for and dreamt of, than that he 
 should sail away in the company of this sweet little lady at 
 the head of his folk to the Promised Land, the Islands of the 
 Blest ! 
 
 With such whirling fancies and queries as these his 
 heart thumped and his head span. The impulse was strong 
 upon him to appeal to her at once, but the boy was there, 
 looking eagerly on, and — and Aimee turned and spoke in 
 a changed voice, and so the opportunity passed. 
 
 " Oh, but," said she, with a quick impulsiveness all her 
 own, " I must go home." She glanced at him, and some- 
 
VIEWS OP KINGSHIP. 201 
 
 thing of the truth could not fail to flash on her. She stood 
 silent, with her beautiful brown eyes cast down to where 
 her fingers were feeling for the fastening of her mantle. 
 She seemed held by the fascination of his look and ex- 
 pression from stirring a step or uttering another word. 
 And the Master himself said nothing for a moment ; half- 
 sitting on the table, he gripped its edge hard with his 
 fingers. 
 
 "What for need ye hurry away ? " he said at length in a 
 low, tremulous voice. 
 
 She turned her head, gracefully and mischievously as a 
 bird might, and said : 
 
 " It is time for me to go home ; do you not think it is ? " 
 and she glanced the while at the royal letter which lay on 
 the table ; and he recognised his opportunity of detaining 
 her awhile. 
 
 " I'm thinking," said he, " that maybe you can help me 
 to make all these words out." 
 
 He turned and read the letter aloud with her, slowly, 
 lingeringly, perilously conscious that he was very near her, 
 that by the slightest movement of finger or elbow he might 
 touch her. And Hamish went and leaned on the other side 
 of the table and wondered at their behaviour. Why did they 
 skip from one word to another a line off ? Why did they 
 not read right on and discover in a business-like way what 
 were the doubtful words ? But the important significance 
 of one phrase suddenly seized the Master's attention and 
 brought it back from the young lady's fascinating presence 
 to Her Majesty's commands. He repeated it aloud to himself. 
 
 '■"■Proceed with all secrecy and dispatch.'' Secrecy and 
 dispatch ! " he exclaimed, standing erect. " That means, to 
 be sure, I must get ready and get off as soon as ever I can." 
 Aimee glanced at him with a bright, bird-like quickness, 
 as if she would say, " And will you go, then, after all ? " 
 " And," he continued, missing her look, " the thing must not 
 be spoken of. You hear that, you nickem," said he to 
 Hamish. " The Queen forbids ye to say anything to any- 
 body either about king or kingdom, or about our getting 
 ready to go away." 
 14 
 
202 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 " And me, I hear it also, M^sieu le Maitre,'' said Aimee, 
 smiling and curtseying ; " it is for me also — that secrecy. I 
 ought not to have seen the letter, for I am a gossip ; but I 
 will not speak of it to anyone, because I fear that you, the 
 King, might cut my head off." 
 
 " You're merry," said the Master with a smile of satisfied 
 indulgence, " but, to be sure, we'll none o' us speak of it, for 
 there's the Queen's command as plain as need be. But it is 
 nonsense. Miss Lepine, to say you should not have seen the 
 letter, for I'd have been certain to tell you of it, and I'm 
 thinking ye'll be interested in't just as ye were interested 
 when I was so lucky as to get you to point out to me ' British 
 Possessions coloured Red.' " 
 
 " Well," said she with an arch demureness, ' ' if you do 
 not mind that I know " 
 
 " Mind that ye know ? I'm glad— I'm overjoyed that ye 
 know ! Why do ye say such things ? " and he cast on her a 
 look of some reproach. 
 
 " But I must now say good-bye," said she, and held out 
 her hand and smiled with a bewitchingness which suggested 
 that though she went she was very loth to go. 
 
 " And must you go now, then ? " said he. He added 
 suddenly, turning and looking on her, " Can I come and 
 see you and sp6ak to you to-night ? Will ye be in if I 
 come ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," she answered innocently, as if she did not 
 guess what he might mean, " we shall be at home. It will 
 please father very much to see you.'' 
 
 " But will I see you ? " he asked. " Because I would like 
 to have a talk with ye about this letter." 
 
 " Oh, but the business of the letter is secret," said she, 
 glancing with arched eyebrows. " You should not talk of 
 that. But I will be at home." 
 
 When she had gone he was in a half-dazed, wholly 
 ecstatic condition. It is doubtful which held the more im- 
 portant position in his mind and which shone the brighter 
 — whether the astounding Royal answer to his humble 
 letter, or his delightful hope that the shining fairy lady had 
 a liking for him — a liking which might come to be one with 
 
VIEWS OF KINGSHIP. 203 
 
 the feeling which intoxicated himself. Because it has not 
 been necessary in this partial history to say that the Master 
 had never been in love before, it must not be supposed that 
 he had had no experience of women. To suppose that 
 would be to estimate him not human, and especially not a 
 countryman of him who wrote " Green grow the rashes, O ! " 
 But this that had hold of him now was an altogether new 
 and all-absorbing feeling. He was so possessed that, as was 
 his wont at times of agitation and excitement, he went to 
 his bench and began to occupy his hands while his mind 
 was free. The astonished and scandalised Hamish recalled 
 him to himseK. 
 
 " Kings," said the boy, " diuna work at things — do they '! " 
 
 He set his tools down and turned. 
 
 " I think I've heard, laddie, o' a French King that worked 
 at making locks ; but then, I believe he did it only for a 
 ploy, and he lost his kingdom, if I'm not mista'en. So I 
 think that maybe a King had better work at no trade but 
 his own. The Master o' Hutcheon might handle chisel and 
 plane, but the King o' Andaman mustna. 'Od, I was in- 
 clined to forget that the Queen has delegated a kind o' 
 royal authority to me 1 It's most extraordinar" I " and he 
 returned to the table to consider the letter, and to try to 
 apprehend duly what he now was and what was his duty. 
 
 " With secrecy and dispatch ! " That phrase stuck to 
 and worried him. Of course, in order to get away he must 
 make preparations, the practical details of which could only 
 be settled with some other persons ; therefore absolute 
 secrecy was impossible, and therefore absolute secrecy could 
 not be meant. So he would take counsel — and with whom, 
 in the first instance at least, save ^\'ith him who knew all 
 about these foreign regions to which the royal command 
 now ordered him to proceed — the comrade who had had so 
 much experience of all the ways of life ? 
 
 On the spur of the thought he set out to O 'Rhea's shanty. 
 
 ■ Are ye in, Fergus '. "' the Master asked, opening the 
 door after knocking and waiting through a long pause of 
 silence. 
 
 " Oh, come in, Hutcheon, come in.'' 
 
204 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 The Master saw O'Rhea through a haze of tobacco and 
 peat-smoke, saw him sitting at the table, half-naked it 
 seemed ; in truth, a breath of June weather had come for- 
 ward into the middle of April, and O'Rhea had cast off his 
 ague and his clothes, and sat rejoicing in shirt and trousers, ' 
 with his muscular hairy arms bare. He rose and opened 
 the window to clear the room of its obscuring smoke, and 
 he tied a red handkerchief about his head that he might not 
 catch cold, ^t that the Master exclaimed : 
 
 " Weel, Fergus ! Ye want but your beard back to look 
 like that Will Atkins in the picture in Hamish's book ! Ye 
 look as like a bloodthirsty pirate as man ever looked." 
 
 That chance shot threw O'Rhea off his equipoise of self- 
 conscious anxiety and happy audacity. He was wondering 
 how Hutcheon was taking the sham royal letter, when 
 Hutcheon opened his mouth and spoke, to compare him to 
 a pirate. It was a singular coincidence. But he boldly 
 faced it down. 
 
 " There's comfort in that, Hutcheon," said he, " for I've 
 always found that the man that looks worse than he is is a 
 long sight more to be trusted than the man that looks better 
 than he possibly can be. But what favourable breeze has 
 wafted you here, M'sieu le Maitre f " he asked with a smile ; 
 and his smile could be very engaging. 
 
 " Breeze ? " retorted the Master. " A royal whirlwind. 
 Read that," and he handed the letter in the big blue en- 
 velope. 
 
 " ' On Her Majesty's Service ! ' " read Fergus. " Eh ? 
 What's that?" 
 
 " Open it and read," said the Master. 
 
 Fergus opened it out and read (it was all very well 
 played ; he was an excellent actor) — read slowly and care- 
 fully, as if feeling the way for his astonished understanding 
 to follow, and then in a little while more and more rapidly 
 and eagerly, as if an amazed apprehension were urging on 
 his tongue, till the climax of speed and pitch was reached 
 in " Rajah or King of Andaman.'''' 
 
 " Why," he exclaimed, as in the height of friendly glee, 
 " that'll just suit you, won't it ? That's the very thing for 
 
VIEWS OP KINGSHIP. 205 
 
 you. I congratulate you, Hutcheon, my boy, with all my 
 heart." 
 
 "But," said Hutcheon, "it's most extraordinar'. I ex- 
 pected nothing o' the kind." 
 
 " Why not, my boy, why not ? " O'Rhea was afraid then 
 lest the Master would say he could not accept so high and 
 burdensome an appointment, and in his desire to make the 
 kingly state seem of sufficiently small account he almost 
 overdid it. "Was not Saul, if I remember right, taken 
 from minding his father's donkeys ? and David from herd- 
 ing sheep, and made a king ? and why should not you, the 
 Master of Hutcheon, be taken from twisting weavers' webs 
 and made King of Andaman, which, after all, is not Great 
 Britain and Ireland ? " 
 
 " I have never made a trade o' twisting webs, Fergus," 
 said the Master in some offence. " But after all," he con- 
 tinued, with the mock humility of pride, "if the Queen has 
 thought right to appoint an unworthy liege like myself to 
 take her place in Andaman, who am I or my father's house 
 to raise objections ? And, to come to the hinder end o't, if 
 the Gordons cannot show a king in the past they have been 
 gey sib wi' kings.'' 
 
 And so both the Master and O'Rhea were satisfied. The 
 Master, if he had the smallest doubt before that there was 
 something unreal and evanescent about his appointment, 
 had no uncertainty about it now that O'Rhea, of all men, 
 had accepted it without query or demur; and O'Rhea 
 was solidly convinced that the Master had swallowed his 
 bait, and that he held him secure. 
 
 " Well, then, Fergus," said the Master, " I'm thinking I'll 
 have to be asking ye for advice." 
 
 " Its at your service, Hutcheon — at your service my boy. 
 ' Secrecy and dispatch,^ these have to be your watchwords, 
 I believe ; '' and he took up the royal letter to make sure he 
 had not misquoted. 
 
 "Just that,'' answered the Master. 
 
 " Well," said O'Rhea, spreading his arms out on the table, 
 clasping his hands and putting his considering thumb be- 
 tween his teeth, " we must think of the practical business of 
 
206 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 ' dispatch.'' Smart's the word ! " As if he had not already 
 settled in his own mind all the practical business ! " First 
 we must find a ship — a good ship ; a top-sail schooner's the 
 thing!" 
 
 " Ca' canny, Fergus man ! " said the Master. " Before we 
 get as far as that, I think we should call a consultation of 
 our old friends." 
 
 " A consultation of old friends ! " 
 
 " Surely. It would hardly be fair to leave them out." 
 
 " M'Oree and the rest, you mean ! " 
 
 "To be sure. And I should have my subordinates and 
 officers appointed, all in their proper places, should I no ? " 
 
 " Officers and subordinates ! O Lord ! " 
 
 "Do ye no think it necessary ? " 
 
 " Necessary, yes ; but — but it will delay things very much, 
 Hutcheon." 
 
 " That canna be helped. We must proceed properly and 
 in order." 
 
 "True for you, Hutcheon,'' said Fergus, "true.'' 
 
 But his brow was clouded ; he saw that the Master was 
 going to take his kingship seriously ; and that to play the 
 master and manage him would cost more pains than he had 
 anticipated. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 "THE WOOING O'T." 
 
 There never yet was a woman, however inexperienced, 
 who did not know when a man was taken with her. That 
 is doubtless owing mainly to the simplicity and obvious- 
 ness with which a man shows his preference, but it is also 
 due partly to the extreme sensitiveness of feeling and ap- 
 prehension which nature has developed in women, so that 
 they may shun the overtures of the destroyer and avoid the 
 very beginnings of evil. Miss Lepine was as well equipped 
 
"THE WOOING O'T." 207 
 
 in that regard as any of her sex, and the Master had shown 
 from the first ("who ever loved that loved not at firs|; 
 sight ? ") that he was taken with her, and shown it very 
 plainly. And since he was not at all in her view a man to 
 be dodged and shunned, nor she in truth very much a woman 
 to dodge and shun, it followed that she considered her case 
 in all seriousness. 
 
 The Master of Hutcheon was all she had ever dreamt of 
 him who should appear and take possession of her. He was 
 manly and handsome; he was romantic and picturesque; 
 he was of ancient race and had tolerable wealth, and he 
 was not as other men who are content to eat and drink, to 
 wear clothes and spend time over something they call busi- 
 ness. He had heroic schemes, and he was a leader and 
 saviour of men and women. She had that day seen the 
 narrow and bare condition in which he lived ; if she had 
 believed him to be really poor that would have probably 
 hurt and repelled her, but she knew he was not poor, and 
 she therefore saw his voluntary poverty as the condescen- 
 sion and sacrifice of a divine being who takes the troubles 
 of the poor upon himself. And therefore it was that she 
 believed without suspicion or scruple in his royal appoint- 
 ment. 
 
 If parents and guardians should wonder that Aimee so 
 readily became interested in so strange a person as the Mas- 
 ter, let them bethink them what her upbringing had been — 
 now in a convent in France and then in a school in Edin- 
 burgh. Let them remember that, being the daughter of her 
 father — a Frenchman and a Roman Catholic — she was cut 
 off from association with people of her father's class and 
 rank in Inverdoon, who were without exception Presbyte- 
 rians ; and let them consider that, if possession is nine points 
 of the law, opportunity is nine points of possession. 
 
 Aimee, then, was possessed heart and mind by the Mas- 
 ter, or rather by her ideal image, or simulacrum, of the 
 Master ; for if men in Religion have always made their 
 gods antlu-opomorphic, the balance is adjusted by women in 
 Love having always made their men theomorphic. I sup- 
 pose there hardly ever was a human male — not even the 
 
208 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 commonest walking, eating, grumbling, snoring masculine 
 monster — whom some dear woman's heart did not make a 
 god of. Aimee was compact of warm impulses and tender 
 dreams, and the Master — or her image of him — was the sun 
 to make them grow and bloom. She was the earth and he 
 was her great luminary. Before he appeared above her 
 horizon there were many bright planets and stars revolving 
 distantly in the sky — a tolerably dark and cold sky; but 
 when he appeared he caused all stars and planets to disap- 
 pear and filled her universe with light and heat. When 
 first she met the Master she had been rather afraid of him, 
 afraid of his seriousness, afraid of what she heard of his 
 nobility, afraid of the dreadful and eccentric things she 
 had been told he had done and said ; but when she had 
 talked with him, when she had found Andaman for him in 
 the atlas, and when she had sung to him, she thought she 
 completely understood him. His eccentricities fell lightly 
 into their places as ornamental characteristic parts of his 
 array, just as her own frills and laces became pretty parts 
 of herself under the light touch of her own fair fingers. 
 And this man, this hero, this demi-god was taken with her ! 
 loved her truly, perhaps (and her cheek blushed and her 
 heart beat at the thought) ; this ruler and saviour of men was 
 interested in her and desired to have her interest in his 
 noble schemes. And he wished to talk to her that night ! 
 "What— what did he wish to say ? For it would have been 
 plain to the meanest female comprehension that the pur- 
 pose he assigned of talking over the Queen's letter was not 
 the true one. 
 
 It was after dinner. Aimee had, as usual, played her 
 father to sleep; her brother G-eorge and putative compan- 
 ion Elsie were, as usual, also set down together ; and so she 
 turned from the piano to gaze through the unblinded win- 
 dow of the drawing-room into the soft night. The drawing- 
 room was on the ground fioor, and the French windows 
 were open, because the heat of June had made an advanced 
 inroad upon April ; so Aimee stepped out from the carpeted 
 floor to the gravelled pathway. An almost new moon was 
 in the sky, gleaming like mother of pearl and making all 
 
"THE WOOING 0"T." 209 
 
 the garden look fantastic and mysterious in its white light. 
 It was to pay her devoirs to the new moon that she had 
 come out, Aimee told herself, and she paid them, howing 
 seven times and turning her little purse over in her pocket ; 
 but at the same time she had a ready ear for a footstep that 
 presently sounded on the gravelled way that conducted from 
 the great gate. 
 
 " It is he I " she said to herself. " At last he comes ! " 
 
 She tripped swiftly forward towards the approaching 
 sound, and stopped when out of the light and purview of 
 the drawing-room window and near a clump of lilacs, the 
 blooms of which had already begun to open and exhale their 
 delicious scent. She stood and saw him come, and won- 
 dered what he would say to find her there against the sweet- 
 smelling shrubs. She saw him come, looking tall and hand- 
 some in the moonlight in his quaint Scottish attire. 
 
 " Do not," said Aimee to herself, " his simple clothes be- 
 come him ? But who would guess he is a king ? And yet 
 he is every inch a king!" she said, ignorantly quoting a 
 notable phrase from a famous tragedy. 
 
 When he came near he stepped forward. Seeing her 
 in her evening array, and all subdued and enwrapped by 
 the moonlight, he stopped and stared with a wrinkled 
 brow. 
 
 " My cei'tie ! " he exclaimed, " but it's you ! " 
 
 The intimate compliment of the "you" had its effect 
 upon Aimee. 
 
 She laughed a laugh that seemed in its silveriness and its 
 ripple akin to the moonlight. 
 
 "And what, M'sieu le Maitre" said she with a little 
 sweep of curtsey, " did you think it might be ? " 
 
 He looked at her. Had she come out to meet him, and 
 had she been waiting for him there ? His heart went out 
 to her with all the impulsiveness and fancy of his perfervid 
 race. 
 
 " And might I not think," said he, smiling, " that ye would 
 be one of the fairy-folk come back that they say have been 
 driven ayont the seas by the wickedness and want o' faith 
 of men and women, and the building of mills and suchlike ? 
 
210 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 But," he added, crossing his hands resolutely before him, as 
 if he had much ado to refrain from embracing her and 
 gathering her to his breast, " will ye not be cold like that ? 
 No that the night is cold, but the moonlight, they say, is no 
 just canny — it shimmers and shivers upon ye — and ye should 
 be happit and sained from its influence." 
 
 "Yes," she said with a pretty imitation of a shiver, "we 
 must go in. When father wakes up he will think that I am 
 lost." 
 
 " Will he be expecting me? " said the Master. 
 
 " I did not say to him that you come," she answered sim- 
 ply. " Had I wrong ? " 
 
 " Wrong ? And what for should it be wrong ? It is not 
 to see the Bailie that I'm here. And what for need ye go 
 in ? It is bonny here ; there is the caller air and ye can 
 smell at the flowers. Will ye not take a walk round the 
 garden ? " he asked, laying a light compelling touch on her 
 arm. " And see, I have brought my plaid about me just out 
 of habit, and ye will hap that round ye," said he, putting it 
 at once about her shoulders, " and ye'll catch no harm from 
 the night air or the moonbeams." 
 
 Aimee submitted to be thus wrapped. She had a delicious 
 sense of being taken possession of and of being cared for, 
 and a thrill of pleasure when his hand smoothed the plaid 
 on her shoulder. 
 
 " And now," said he softly, " we'll just take a walk round 
 the garden, will we no ? and I'll hold ye by the hand as ye 
 held Hamish that Sabbath I saw ye first." She gave him 
 her hand. She could not help it. She had to obey him. 
 "And do you know what I thought," he continued while 
 they wandered away into the moonlight garden, between 
 rose bushes and raspberry canes, for there was an agreeable 
 and economical alternation of the beautiful and useful in 
 that ancient demesne, " do you know what I thought that 
 Sabbath afternoon I first set eyes on ye ? I thought to my- 
 self, 'That is the bonniest little bird in the whole world ! ' 
 And when I heard ye speak, your voice gaed through me, 
 and I said to myself, 'She is the most winsome wee thing 
 man ever knew ! ' " 
 
"THE WOOING O'T." 211 
 
 " Am I truly so very wee — so very little, then ? " she 
 asked in a soft, low voice. 
 
 "No, no," he protested. "Ye are just a nice befitting' 
 size ; ye're just as high as a man's heart." 
 
 " It must be a big man," she declared. 
 
 " And it is," he answered readily. " It is." 
 
 He stopped an instant and drew her to him to demon- 
 strate the truth of his statement. Their eyes shone to each 
 other in the moonlight, and then they went on again closer 
 together. A mutual thrill of feeling ran through them. 
 
 " Will ye go ? " he asked suddenly, pressing her hand in 
 his. " Will ye go over the sea, where the other fairies have 
 gone ? Will ye come with me to Andaman ? " 
 
 " Oh, I do not know ! " she answered in some alarm. She 
 tried a little to withdraw her hand, but she failed and let it 
 stay. " I should be away from everybody I There would 
 be nobody but you ! " 
 
 " And I should have nobody but you ! " said he. " No- 
 body near me, I mean ; I should want nobody." 
 
 " Oh, but, m'sieu" she said hurriedly, " you have your 
 own people — the folk you love and live for and work for ! " 
 
 " Not near me," said he, " not close to me ; not dwelling 
 right inside my heart. I have but room for one o' that 
 kind." 
 
 " But," she exclaimed, " what will my father say, what 
 will my father do, if I go so far ? " 
 
 " What is it your father can say or do ? I have seen from 
 the first time I set eyes on ye that we were for one another. 
 We two together, and aU the rest of near and dear outside. 
 So if we agree about that it can matter but little what the 
 Bailie may say. Te mind it is said that a man must leave 
 father and mother and cleave unto his wife, and the wife 
 must surely do the like. The Lord says that, my dawtie." 
 
 "What Lord, M'sieu le Mattre ?" 
 
 "The Lord Himsel'," answered the Master — "the Lord 
 God. And the meaning is, that if a man lo'es a lassie to make 
 her his wife, then he takes her to him and has her by him 
 through thick and thin, storm and shine, and she holds to 
 him, and his people become her people and his affairs her 
 
212 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 affairs, and they two are kith and kin, all the world one to 
 the other." 
 
 " And do you truly wish me so ? " she asked, looking up 
 with a radiant frankness. 
 
 " Wish ye so ? Ay, that and more. I wish ye to be my 
 own kind dearie, my mistress and my queen. Oh, yes ; and 
 in a wee while ye'U be as set on helping my poor folk as 
 I am myself, and ye'll be as eager to get them out of all 
 this clash and clamjamfrie we warstle in the thick o', and 
 away to where we can all ha'e plenty of room, and plenty of 
 food, and plenty of caller air and sun. Oh, yes. And we'll 
 sail away in a fine ship of our own, with me and you at the 
 helm, and all the salt seas shall be sunny, and summery, 
 and dimpled, and dancing for you to sail over them. And 
 in the ship there'll be a bonny cabin fitted up just as ye'd 
 like it. And so we'll come to the bonny land that the Queen 
 herself has turned over to me for the benefit of my folk ; 
 and there we shall dwell, guiding, and helping, and ruling 
 the folk, me and you — ay, me and you together till the end, 
 thanking God for all his wonderful ways and his wonderful 
 goodness, for the sun, and the sea, and the caller air, and 
 for sweet flowers and delicious fruit, and for contented, 
 happy folk all around us ! Ay, me and you hand in hand, 
 my dawtie ! — like Adam and Eve, my dear, in a new Para- 
 dise ! — thanking the Lord morn and even, and the livelong 
 day ! " 
 
 The Master had much of the Celt in him — the Celt who 
 is serious and dithyrambic about all his feelings, and who 
 cultivates love as a religious emotion. And he was Celtic, 
 too, in that, while he was strong with passion to the most 
 tense, trembling point, passion had no violent, fiery outburst, 
 but was melted into a sweet, enveloping tenderness. 
 
 " It is beautiful, mon ami!" murmured Aimee. "And 
 how good you are ! — and how kind to everyone ! " 
 
 She pressed his arm in a thrill of gratification and vague 
 gratitude. 
 
 "But I wish,'' said he — "wish more than anything else — 
 to be kind to you, my dawtie — kind for ever and aye ! " 
 
 Aimee said nothing, but pressed still closer to him. And 
 
THE KING'S FIRST COUNCIL. 213 
 
 as they walked on thus she hardly knew what things he 
 said or what she replied. They only came to her mind later 
 when she was calm, as photographic pictures develop only 
 when taken away from the light ; she was conscious only 
 then of contact with the Master and of being poss'^ssed by 
 him, by his spirit and his ardour, and she saw in her fancy 
 their triumphant pair of figures, as he pictured them, pacing 
 strange, lovely shores, and sitting on chairs of state, ruling 
 a happy people, and dispensing favour and justice. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE king's first COUNCIL. 
 
 From that moonlit evening in the old garden of Corbie 
 Ha' dated a noteworthy change in the Master. The condi- 
 tions of his life had changed, and he changed with them. 
 Fortune had singled him out to bestow favours on him — 
 notable and unexpected favours, the last and the greatest of 
 which was the love of the pearl of womankind, the most 
 gracious creature that ever man knew. He had lived so 
 long in the shade of life that he had become unaware of it, 
 but when the sunshine burst upon him he was profoundly 
 conscious of the change, and his nature expanded and 
 flowered. He began to think more highly of himself than 
 he had been wont ; for it is inevitable that when Fortune 
 deals kindly with a man he should come to believe that he 
 has in some way shown himself worthy of her kindness. 
 The Master was endued with the strengthening belief, except 
 in regard to one thing, the gift of love, and that seemed to 
 him so free and spontaneous, so much less proceeding from 
 Fortune than from the sweet and gracious Aimee herself, 
 that he could not cease to wonder at it and be humbly grate- 
 ful at the same time as he drew it close about him with 
 pride and joy, as if it were a rich and warm cloak. 
 
214 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 There are some men who are spoiled by success in life 
 and in love. In adverse or narrow circumstances they may 
 have shown themselves cheerful, brave, and kindly, prompt 
 to help and to console ; with success they become gross and 
 arrogant, greedy of flattery, and prone to jealousy, envy, and 
 all uncharitableness. They are like pine-trees that flourish 
 most in harsh and biting air. Others there are who need 
 success to be seen at their best; they are like fruit trees 
 that demand generous soil and sunshine to produce good 
 fruit. The Master was of these last. He had not hitherto 
 been lacking in the virtues of manhood, except that he had 
 been somewhat wanting in cheerfulness and sociability, and 
 that he had often been peevish, irritable, and prejudiced ; 
 but now his qualities began to shine with a new brightness 
 and to fill out with a fresh amplitude. He was less severe 
 and slow than he had been, even in speech, and was more 
 suave and serene ; he had always been dignifled, but now he 
 wore his dignity with a gayer, easier, and more impulsive 
 air; and all with a supreme unconsciousness — insomuch 
 that he surprised his old friends, and even the jealous and 
 watchful O'Rhea. 
 
 The change in him was first made publicly manifest on 
 the evening on which he called about him the old friends 
 of "The Cause," to set before them their new destiny. The 
 company assembled in the long, low garret which was the 
 Master's " houseplace " and workshop combined, and O'Rhea 
 came also among them. It was but a small, queer remnant 
 of the Great Rebellion of eight years before that sat around 
 the Master's deal table, on which stood the grey-beard of 
 whisky and dram-glasses to the full number of the com- 
 pany. Besides Hutcheon himself, there were Steven the 
 one-eyed, with his well-trained oily ringlet in front of either 
 ear, M'Kay the asthmatic, the father of the Crimean veteran. 
 Hay the gaunt and hollow-eyed consumptive with his cav- 
 ernous cough, and Willie Wilson, an obstinate creature 
 with a persistent giggle, which falsely suggested that he 
 found life full of amusement. M'Cree came late, and 
 " bu-h-h'd " with amazement to see O'Rhea, who came after 
 himself, pass to the head of the table and draw in a stool to 
 
THE KING'S FIRST COUNCIL. 215 
 
 the Master's left hand. On the Master's right sat Hamish, 
 to everybody's surprise ; but the Master oifered no explana- 
 tion or excuse for his presence, and no one dared to question 
 him about it. 
 
 The Master stroked his pointed beard, swept his mous- 
 taches from his lips, and spoke. 
 
 "All that were asked to come," he said, "are now here, 
 all except Loudon, and he was feared it meant mischief, and 
 he wouldna come." 
 
 They looked round upon each other, to be assured who 
 were there ; but the dusk was falling fast, and none could 
 see another with distinctness; the only things that stood 
 out in evidence being the seven streaks of light which 
 represented the dram-glasses for the company around the 
 table. 
 
 " So," continued the Master, " we'll get to business." 
 
 " Bu-h-h ! " cried M'Cree, rising in his place. " I rishe to 
 order. We should first app'int a chairman ; and neist we 
 should ha'e read the minutes o' the last meeting. Lat's do 
 things in order.'' 
 
 Everybody laughed, for everybody understood what 
 M'Cree was after. He demanded the minutes of the last 
 meeting of the Chartist Executive, because of that meeting 
 (as everyone remembered) he, the now neglected M'Cree, 
 had been chairman. 
 
 " I think,'' said the Master quietly, " our old friend is 
 mistaken. This meeting is the first of its kind ; it's a meet- 
 ing by ordinar' ; it's a sort of Melchizedek among meetings ; 
 there's been none like it afore, and there may be none like 
 it after. It's not a Chartist meeting.'' 
 
 "No a Chartist meeting!" exclaimed M'Cree. "And 
 what the wonder is it, sirs ? " 
 
 " By Jingo ! " cried Steven, " I thocht it was to be drum 
 and pike, and firelock, and begnet again. I thocht that was 
 what for we cam' thegither ! ^' 
 
 " Such a chield as ye are for fighting, Steven ! " said the 
 Master. "We want no pikes nor begnets the now. This 
 is an affair o' peace and goodwill, at the first send-ofl^ at 
 least." 
 
216 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 " So it's no the Cause come up again ! " said the insinua- 
 tive Willie Wilson. " I'm fine and pleased for that. I'm 
 a' for living easy now," he giggled, " wi' slabs o' roasted 
 beef like the English, if I can get it. The Cause brought us 
 naething but wersh * meat, and dooms little o' that. Ay, I 
 thocht ye'd be ower gash t to start the Cause again." 
 
 " It's the Cause, Willie," answered the Master, " and it's 
 not the Cause — if by the Cause ye mean Chartism. It's the 
 Cause in a new shape. But ye'U understand better if ye'il 
 a' have the patience to let me explain. And as for our old 
 friend M'Cree's word about a chairman — this is my own 
 meeting, and ye're my own friends, invited into my own 
 house, and I'll be my own chairman. I think that's but 
 reasonable." 
 
 " Hoot ay ! " exclaimed Wilson, taking upon him to reply, 
 as having the fresh flavour of speech upon his lips. " It's 
 good logic eneugh. Say awa' ! " 
 
 M'Cree bu-h-h'd in sullen assent, and the Master rose to 
 light his candles, as if he thought it desirable to have his 
 friends clearly under his eye. When the friends saw the 
 gleam of the two silver candlesticks they gazed stupidly at 
 them a moment, and then looked upon the illuminated 
 countenance of the Master. 
 
 " They maun be worth a bonny penny," said Willie 
 Wilson. 
 
 "I wonder ye ha'e keppit them sae lang, Hutcheon,'' said 
 M'Cree, with the evident intention of him who once mur- 
 mured, " Why was not this sold for three hundred pence, 
 and given to the poor ? " 
 
 Hutcheon said no word for a moment, but he looked 
 round upon his company and considered them. With the 
 exceptions of O'Ehea, Steven, and Hamish, they were old 
 in years or sick unto death, and they were timid, obstinate, 
 and unbelieving ; but the Master viewed them through that 
 glamour of romantic feeling which is as enveloping as 
 Divine Love, and therefore he saw them not as they were, 
 but as he wished to believe them to be. He imputed his 
 
 * Wersh — tasteless. t Ga^h — sharp, 
 
THE KING'S FIRST COUNCIL. 217 
 
 own righteousness, and his own hope, his own charity, and 
 his own sense of life to these poor, dull, hard, heaten and 
 bruised fragments of humanity, and so in all sincerity he 
 addressed them with friendliness and confidence, open as a 
 door of welcome. 
 
 " This is what it is," he began, and his benevolent smile 
 creased his cheeks and made his seignioral nose seem longer 
 and more overpowering. " Ye mind well that on that ter- 
 rifu' morning eight years ago, when we saw my brither 
 Geordie and our old friend here, O'Rhea (there's no danger 
 in speaking his name here among friends only), ye mind 
 when we saw them clear off from the cove across the water 
 that my brither's last words to me were, ' Stick to the 
 Cause ! ' Well, day and night ever sin-syne his words have 
 been humming and bumming in my head, and soughing 
 and singing about my heart, but I could see no opening for 
 doing a thing. But I aye thought it ower, and the more I 
 thought and the more I saw, the more I came to under- 
 stand that what we had called the Cause was windy, noisy, 
 blethering nonsense. Understand me ; not the real Cause, 
 the care of the folk, but the way of setting about that 
 Cause." 
 
 " Ay," broke in M'Cree, " we should mak' a Revolution, 
 and ding down Monarchy, Arist5-cracy, and Plut5 cracy I "' 
 
 The Master did not relish having his thread broken. He 
 fixed his eye on M'Cree, and with a touch of his old severity 
 said: 
 
 " Ay, ding down everybody but Sanders M'Cree. M'Cree's 
 a fine hand at revolutions. He has seen so many of them 
 — in his newspapers.'' 
 
 O'Rhea sniggered, the others crackled with unused 
 laughter, and M'Cree himself glowered and blew his terrible 
 Roman nose. The Master resumed suavely : 
 
 " Ha'e a minute's patience, and ye'll hear what I would 
 be at. It grew plain to me that leaving off work, and 
 marching about, and roaring for Rights o' Man and Five 
 Points was no way of getting anything but the good hot 
 skelping which we did get, like idle orra loons. And it was 
 borne in on me as true as Gospel that there was no getting 
 15 
 
218 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 away from the auld-farrant doctrine, ' In the sweat of 
 thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the 
 ground.' " 
 
 " Genesis," giggled Willie "Wilson, " third and some- 
 thing." 
 
 " Bu-h-h ! " growled M'Cree. 
 
 "So," continued the Master, "I set about doing some- 
 thing to help on what seemed to me the true Cause, to make 
 it easier a bit for our fol'k to get bread and sup. I con- 
 trived the ' Whamleerie,' the end o' whilk ye all know. I'll 
 allow I was gey and cast down about that. I thought and 
 thought, and the more I thought the more I saw the same 
 thing ; the power o' mills and engines and machines grow- 
 ing more and more, rising about us like the tide " — and his 
 voice became more sonorous and vibrant — "to sweep us 
 away and swallow us up, as the sea sweeps away and swal- 
 lows up a castle o' sand made by bairns ayont the links. 
 When the bairns see that, what do they do but loup from 
 their castle and run to the bents ? And when folk can fight 
 no longer wi' mills and machinery, there's aye left to them 
 to run away. But where to ? " 
 
 " Ay, that's it," said Willie Wilson. " That's a nailer." 
 
 " Well," continued the Master, with a controlling eye on 
 Willie, " there came into my mind a word of my brither 
 Geordie's, ' If ye cannot grow and thrive in the auld gr'und 
 there's hamely land in the world yet.' And about the same 
 time there sounded in my ear another word, ' It's the sun 
 ye need, the sun and the open air.' And ever sin-syne the 
 words have been wi' me like the owercome o' a bonny sang, 
 ' There's hamely land in the world yet,' and ' It's the sun ye 
 need, the sun and the air.' " 
 
 " It's emigration ye mean ! '' exclaimed M'Cree promptly. 
 " Bu-h-h ! We're ower auld to think o' going off wi' a hop, 
 skip, and jump to Canada or Australia to work hard at 
 howkin' and pleughin'." 
 
 " I ance kent a man," murmured Willie Wilson, " that 
 gaed to Canada, and twal' year after he cam' back a sight 
 waur off than he gaed awa'." 
 
 "By Gosh!" cried Steven, "I'll no gang howkin'! be 
 
THE KING'S FIRST COUNCIL, 219 
 
 d— d to me ! I'll handle a musket wi' onybody, and I'll 
 
 stick to the Maister, but " 
 
 "Haud your whisht, Steven," said the Master, "and let 
 me teem * my shuttle, aU of ye. There's here no question, I 
 assure ye, of Canada or Australia, or any place that poor 
 folk emigrate to. This is another thing altogether, as differ- 
 ent from them as cheese is from chalk. And, even if the 
 word were 'emigrate,' wha's he would speak o' being auld 
 when there's the Cause— the Eeal Cause— to be won, if no 
 for himself, for the young generation ? This is the sole and 
 only chance ye have had, or they will have belike, and it 
 behoves ye no to miss it. If ye give it the go-by for your- 
 selves and the young folk, you and they will sink deeper 
 and deeper in the moss of poortith and oppression." 
 
 " It's gey and easy speakin'," said Willie Wilson, wag- 
 ging his head. " But if and supposin' we gang aff flittin' 
 awa' to the back o' yond, it canna be done wi'out siller, and 
 whaur's the siller to come frae ? That's the nailer ! " 
 
 " The expense of the whole flitting will be mine ! " said 
 the Master with a wide sweep of his hand. "I have the 
 siller ! " 
 
 There was a moment's silence, while each looked greedily 
 at the others, as if grudging that any but himself should 
 have the opportunity offered of levying on the Master's 
 siller — all except Steven, who winked aside to Hamish, as if 
 in anticipation of the ploys to come. 
 
 "And whaur's the place ye ha'e in your mind, sirs?" 
 asked M'Cree, now humbler and more interested. 
 
 " Andaman," answered the Master as tenderly as if he 
 were savouring his sweetheart's name. 
 
 " And whaur's that ? " demanded M'Cree. 
 
 " It's a bonny place in the Bay of Bengal — am island." 
 
 "And wha'sh an island ? " demanded M'Cree. 
 
 " What's an island ? " said the Master, turning to Ha- 
 mish. "Speak up for the credit of your Gr'ography, and 
 let's hear ! " 
 
 " An island," piped Hamish promptly, as if he were an- 
 
 * Teem— Empty. 
 
220 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 swering the schoolmaster, "is a piece of land altogether 
 surrounded by water." 
 
 " Hoch ! That's a' ! " exclaimed Steven. " We ken mair 
 than ae island in ' Freedom ' — dinna we, Hamish ? " 
 
 Hamish nodded. 
 
 "Ay,'' murmured Willie Wilson, "an' there's the Shet- 
 land Islands and the Orkney Islands I've heard o'. But this 
 island, I suppose, has the watter o' the Bay o' Bengal a' 
 round about it, and a curn o' Bengal tigers growlin' on it, I 
 daursay." 
 
 " Fient a tiger ! Is there, Fergus ? " asked the Master, 
 turning to O'Rhea. And then looking again at the com- 
 pany, " Fergus knows the place." 
 
 " I know the place, of course," said O'Ehea. " A lovely 
 place ! Freedom and plenty. Little to do and a good deal 
 to get. Work when you like and play when you like ; no 
 masters to hound you on, but only a handftd of harmless 
 black natives. That's the sort of place it is. And as for 
 tigers — when we get there," and he glanced boldly at the 
 Master,- "the most ferocious beast will be Steven or my- 
 self." 
 
 Out of the laughter with which that was received came 
 the voice of M'Cree. 
 
 " Bu-h-h ! Are ye gaun ? " 
 
 " Me ! " exclaimed Fergus, promptly, glaring on M'Cree 
 as if to meet a challenge. "Certainly I'm going! Have 
 you any objection, M'Cree ? " 
 
 "Nane ava! Nane in the world! No!" answered 
 M'Cree as promptly. " I only wondered if the notion o' 
 gaun was yours." 
 
 "The notion of going," answered the Master, "is mine. 
 Fergus happened to name the place, and I got spiering 
 about it ; and I soon said to myself, ' Andaman's the place 
 for me and the folk.' " 
 
 " Andaman," murmured Willie Wilson, as if to fix the 
 name in his consideration. 
 
 " To make an end of a long story," continued the Master, 
 " having made up my mind about the place, I wrote a scrieve 
 to the Queen, spiering for leave to go there, and offering to 
 
HOW THE QUEEN'S LETTER WAS RECEIVED. 221 
 
 buy as muckle land as we needed, if so be the price wasna 
 altogether beyond my means. And by that token here's the 
 answer from the Queen hersel' ! " and he took the document 
 from beneath his hand. 
 
 " An ansher frae the Queen hersel' ! " exclaimed M'Cree. 
 " That's grand telling, sirs ! " 
 
 " Fergus will read it to you," said the Master, handing 
 the document to O'Rhea. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 HOW THE queen's LETTER WAS RECEIVED. 
 
 Fergus took the document with a touch of involuntary 
 abashment. He smoothed it out, stood up, and began to 
 read without giving an eye to the company. " TF/iereas," 
 he began with a broken and hurried uncertainty of voice, 
 "our trusty liege, James, the Master of Hutcheon," but as 
 he went on he resumed confidence in the sounding phrases 
 he had himself invented, and he delivered them with delib- 
 erate effect. 
 
 The Master had modestly deputed the reading to 
 O'Rhea, but he sat with serene self-possession. Manifestly 
 he regarded his people's affairs as of such supreme moment 
 that the Queen's letter appeared to him no more than the 
 keystone of the bridge he had been building for them. He 
 gazed far over the heads of the company, and now and then 
 let his eyes drop to observe in the candlelight the strongly 
 marked faces, upon which went to and fro bewildered ex- 
 pressions of curiosity, amazement, incredulity, and a dawn- 
 ing delight. Their regard swung between O'Rhea and the 
 Master, but on the ring of a stronger phrase than common, 
 it was turned askance for an instant on each other to see 
 how the words were taken. When O'Rhea delivered the 
 final words, ''Rajah or King of And avian " with a brazen 
 flourish, added with impressiveness, " signed Victoria J?.," 
 
222 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 and sat down, there was silence for a breathing space or 
 two. They stole glances at each other, or looked upon the 
 table, and at length they all with one accord turned their 
 eyes upon the Master. It was plain they were viewing him 
 critically, and it was also plain that had he shown less self- 
 possession and authority, had his eye in the smallest degree 
 quailed or wavered in meeting theirs, his kingship would 
 have been received with a burst of laughter ; for in them, 
 as in children or barbarians, there was but the thinner par- 
 tition between belief and unbelief, between reverence and 
 derision, and the partition was not an affair of reason or 
 evidence, but merely of feeling. The Master sat charged 
 with dignity and calm authority, and they bowed to him in 
 their hearts and were serious. 
 
 O'Ehea noted these things with sharp and anxious eyes, 
 as he smoothed and re-snioothed the extraordinary docu- 
 ment under his hand ; so he at least was relieved when the 
 silence was broken by Willie Wilson. 
 
 " Weel,'' said Willie, " I will say this : it's a maist aston- 
 ishin' and extraordinar' honour the Queen has done to the 
 Maister ; that I will say." 
 
 " I take the honour," said the Master quietly, " no as done 
 to me myself, but as done to the auld name I hold ; for the 
 Masters — or I should say the Lords — of Hutcheon have 
 borne rule and authority in their day, and the Queen 
 knows it." 
 
 "Quite right, sir," said O'Ehea, much relieved, "that's 
 the way to look at it." 
 
 He was further rejoiced by a remark from M'Cree; for 
 though it was clear the words were meant to belittle the 
 Master's kingship, they helped to make it appear more 
 feasible. 
 
 " As I understand," quoth the terrible Eoman, " a Eajah 
 out there is no muckle mair than a laird here." 
 
 " Not quite that, M'Cree," observed O'Ehea quickly, " not 
 altogether that." 
 
 " By Jingo, no ! " exclaimed Steven. " I've seen wi' my 
 ain een a Rajah out there as grand as the muckle black 
 de'il." 
 
HOW THiS QUEEN'S LETTER WAS RECEIVED. 223 
 
 "Of course you have," said O'Rhea, "and so have I. 
 But M'Cree sees everything with a microscope." 
 
 The Master smiled, M'Cree bu-h-h'd, but the others did 
 not understand. 
 
 " A ruler's responsibility and authority," said the Master, 
 " doesna depend upon the size of his kingdom." 
 
 " Well, kingdom here, kingdom there," said Willie Wil- 
 son, " it's a grand honour the Queen has done's a' in sending 
 that letter to the Maister. The mair I think o't the mair 
 I'm took wi't." 
 
 "Ay,'' said M'Cree, "it's a bonny write." 
 
 "Wrote wi' her ain hand, I daursay," murmured the 
 consumptive. 
 
 "No, Robbie," said the Master, "I shouldna tliink that, 
 for wi' all her writing she must have a routh o' clerks at her 
 command. I reckon there's only the signature in her own 
 lady's hand." 
 
 " Bu-h-h,'" growled M'Cree. " Can a body ha'e a look at 
 it?" 
 
 The demand made O'Rhea nervous again. With a 
 glance he referred to the Master, who signified that M'Cree's 
 request might be granted. But Fergus would not permit 
 the document to wander far from his fingers. He rose 
 himself and took it for M'Cree's inspection. The Roman 
 Father bu-h-h'd and held the paper an instant at arm's 
 length ; and then he laid it down to put on his horn 
 spectacles that he might examine it more closely. But that 
 O'Rhea would not endure. He removed the paper, as if 
 he supposed M'Cree had finished its inspection ; and upon 
 M'Cree's protesting, he declared they must get on with 
 business. 
 
 " Ay, that's it," said Willie Wilson. " We maun get on 
 wi' business. I keep thinkin' o' the words, and if I'm no 
 mistaken, the Queen has laid her commands upon us a'." 
 
 " Ye're right, WiUie," said the Master, " she has." 
 
 "That's the ticket!" exclaimed Steven,, winking with 
 enthusiasm at Hamish. "'The Queen commands and we 
 must all obey, so over the hills and far away ! ' Eh, Hamish ? 
 Demmit 1 " 
 
224 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 " Truly and exactly," said the Master, taking the docu- 
 ment from O'Rhea and looking at it, " it's upon me, James, 
 the Master of Hutcheon, the Queen has laid her commands, 
 and it's me she'll hold responsible ; but that's just because 
 she thinks I'm the man in authority here;" and he looked 
 round the table and met the eyes of one and another, and of 
 M'Cree in particular. 
 
 " To be sure," said "Willie Wilson. 
 
 " Demmit ! Of course ! " exclaimed Steven. " We maun 
 uphaud discipline !" 
 
 " And," continued the Master, folding the document and 
 putting it in his pocket, "just as the notion of going to 
 Andaman is mine, and the expense will be mine, so the 
 responsibility's mine and the Queen's authority is mine. 
 But," and he leaned forward on the table and smiled upon 
 the company, "I need the advice, in carrying out the 
 business, and the help of my old friends, the old friends 
 of the Cause, and that's what for ye're sitting round my 
 table." 
 
 "I understand that fine," said Willie Wilson; "that's 
 straught-forrit speaking." 
 
 " I want nobody to help that'll not be with me heart and 
 soul — nobody," repeated the Master, looking steadily at 
 M'Cree. " So ilka ane that's no for putting his hand to the 
 plough had better turn out o' the furrow this very night ; 
 for there's no time to be lost in parley and clishmaclaver ; 
 ye heard the Queen's command was ' secrecy and dispatch.'' " 
 
 " Ay,'' cried Steven, "smart's the word ! By my trews ! " 
 
 There was again a pause while each looked at the other 
 and held back from being first to make offer of service. 
 The consumptive Hay leaned forward to speak, but he was 
 overtaken with a fit of coughing, which his friends politely 
 allowed to have way. 
 
 " His boast's gey bad the night. I wonder," murmured 
 Wilson to his neighbour M'Cree, " I wonder that the Maister 
 should ha' bid the poor chield to this collogue." 
 
 " I just wanted to spier," gasped the exhausted consump- 
 tive, " is there caller air — warm — sunny ? The doctors aye 
 said a dry, warm kintra would be the salvation o' me ! " 
 
HOW THE QUEEN'S LETTER WAS RECEIVED. 225 
 
 and the hollow-eyed, hollow-cheeked wreck who had once 
 been the strongest man in the country-side looked with 
 fierce eagerness in the Master's face. " And fresh fruit is 
 there ? — oranges and things o' that kind ? I had some 
 oranges at the New Year, and they did me a warld o' good ! 
 If there's they things in the place, I'll gang though it were 
 on my hands and knees ! " 
 
 "And go ye shall, old friend," said the Master with 
 sympathy in his voice and the glisten of a tear in his eye, 
 and he reached out and shook Hay by the hand. " There's 
 all the things in Andaman that ye need — all without 
 trouble ! — fine warm air, plenty o' fruit and flowers gi'owing 
 ready to your hand, and a sun and sea kindly enough to 
 burn away and wash out all the disease in the world ! " He 
 paused a moment with melting heart. His prevailing kind- 
 liness and pity swept away the severity aroused by their 
 timidity and their suspicion. " Come," said he in a softer 
 and more gracious voice than he had yet used to the com- 
 pany, " Donald Hay for certain needs the change the most, 
 but ye will know there's a hantle more will win a heaven 
 for the crossing there compared with what they have here. 
 Think of the wives and the weans, your sons and your 
 dochters, and all they have to go through at hame, and up 
 wi' your hearts and voices and speak out ; wha's for helping 
 me to get the folk ready for Andaman ? I'll e'en go so far as 
 to pay every man for the time he spends on the service ; ilka 
 man that helps'll bear office under me as a member of my 
 Council." 
 
 " Bu-h-h ! " cried M'Cree, now red with expectation. 
 " That's a fair, grand, and generous offer, sirs, and no leal 
 lover o' the Cause can say it nay ! We'll a' help ! What 
 do you say, lads ? " 
 
 '' To be sure ! " said Willie Wilson, with cheerful aban- 
 don. 
 
 " Of course you will," sniggered O'Rhea, and cast a glance 
 of amazement at the Master. 
 
 Could it be that Hutcheon was blind to their self-seek- 
 ing ? For it was plain that all were bent on their own 
 aggrandisement, all save the simple and faithful and one- 
 
226 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 eyed soldier, who nudged and winked at Hamish as if to 
 keep the boy and himself alive to the greatness of the issues 
 that were being discussed. 
 
 "I understand perfectly, Fergus,'' said the Master in a 
 low -voice. " But never mind ; it all comes in the day's 
 darg." 
 
 The Master saw their greed and their self-seeking as 
 clearly as O'Rhea ; yet he was not therefore moved to scorn 
 but rather to a tenderer pity, for (he considered) had they 
 not been rendered what they were by the terrible tyranny 
 of circumstance ? and was it possible for men who could 
 hardly see from one week's end to another to have his 
 heavenly vision of the beauty and peace and delight of 
 Andaman ? And surely in such abundant pity and deep 
 sympathy the Master found a truer account of human 
 nature than O'Rhea could have put together with all his 
 sharp wits. 
 
 " And wha," said M'Cree, " will ye ask to jine ? " 
 
 " Our own folk first," said the Master ; " after that as 
 many as care, and as we have room for in the ship.'' 
 
 "There shouldna be ower mony. Let it be our ain fish- 
 guts for our ain sea-maw," said M'Cree, obviously thinking 
 of the small share there would be for each if a great crowd 
 were to be partakers of the Master's bounty. 
 
 The Master quickly rebuked him. 
 
 " There'll be plenty and to spare for all when once we sit 
 down in Andaman, and a ship'll have to be provided, be it 
 for twenty or for twa hundred." 
 
 " By my trews ! " exclaimed Steven, who had been pon- 
 dering and winking at Hamish the while, " ye maun ha'e a 
 Native Conteengent, Hutcheon, sir, to keep guard and for 
 sentry go! Me an' Fergus understand the black deevils ! 
 We'll drill them up for ye! Eyes Right! ' Teiition !—eh, 
 Hamish ? Demmit ! " 
 
 At that they all laughed, the Master as loud as any. 
 
 " "Well, Steven," said he, " we'll have a Native Contingent 
 when we get there, and ye shall be the Commander." 
 
 Then up rose M'Cree, and cleared his brazen throat, with 
 the evident purpose of making a speech. 
 
HOW THE QUEEN'S LETTER WAS RECEIVED. 227 
 
 "Bide a wee, M'Cree," said the Master. "Take your 
 glasses,'' and he reached out for the grey-beard, "and we'll 
 drink success to Andaman." The glasses were filled, and 
 the Master rose. " And mind," said he, " The Queen's 
 command is 'secrecy and dispatch.' Dispatch is my 
 business, but secrecy is everybody's. There must be no 
 clashing and claiking about what we're doing ; nobody must 
 know except them that's going." 
 
 " Ay, guidsakes ! " exclaimed Willie Wilson, " an' we 
 maun swear it ! An' we maun tak' aith to be true to our 
 leader, and eident in the Cause ! Let's ha'e the auld Chart- 
 ist shak' I 
 
 They all rose. The Master with a smile stretched out his 
 right hand, and each seized a finger. It was odd that there 
 were just fingers enough for all tlie company, omitting 
 O'Rhea. Without hesitation, and with a scornful glance at 
 the others, Fergus grasped the body of the Master's hand, 
 with his thumb on the wrist. He smiled and smiled again. 
 They all frowned and looked askance upon him. What 
 was the meaning of his action ? — that he meant to be greater 
 than any of them ? 
 
 " Now," said the Master, "let's drink a willie-waught to 
 Andaman !" 
 
 " Andaman ! " they cried. 
 
 " The Andaman expedeetion," croaked M'Cree. " Suc- 
 cess to't.'' 
 
 They all tossed off their glasses, even the consumptive 
 Hay and the asthmatic M'Kay, and Hamish looked on and 
 wondered at the strange conclusion of a sitting never to be 
 forgotten by him. 
 
228 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 AFFAIRS OF STATE, AND OTHER MATTERS. 
 
 The Master's venture, when its sails had been thus shaken 
 out to popular favour, slipped forward bravely. Prepara- 
 tions for Andaman were begun at once by the practical and 
 active O'Rhea. With an admirable self-control that daring 
 adventurer professed to be in complete accord with the Mas- 
 ter's views of his own authority and dignity, and of the ne- 
 cessity for consultation with the Council which had been 
 constituted, though in his heart he cursed all these things 
 as the absurd malse-believe of schoolboys at play. He was 
 instant in season and out of season, constant in his efforts 
 to save the Master trouble, unremitting in his endeavours to 
 take all the wearisome burden of details on his own broad 
 shoulders. In the rig of a sailor he frequented the harbour 
 and the shipyards to discover a likely vessel for sale, his 
 desire being set on a top-sail schooner ; and all the while he 
 maintained a lookout for mariners who were of likely des- 
 peration to suit his real purpose. He had one passage of 
 difference with the Master, after which he appeared as com- 
 plaisant as king could desire, for he saw there was nothing 
 to be gained by thwarting Hutcheon's whimsies, and he was 
 resolved to do and say nothing that might interfere with his 
 design of having the conduct of all the important prepara- 
 tions in his own hands. The difference arose at the end of 
 the first week, when the Master remarked that the Members 
 of the Council had better be paid weekly. 
 
 " You don't really mean to pay them ? " exclaimed 
 O'Ehea. 
 
 " And what for no ? " said the Master. 
 
 " Pay them for nothing ? " cried O'Rhea with some heat. 
 "Pay the loons in the loan for shouting 'hooray'! Pay 
 every mother's son and daughter for being good enough to 
 accept your invitation to go to Andaman at no cost to them- 
 selves ! " 
 
 " But," said the Master, becoming more serious and lofty 
 
AFFAIRS OF STATE, AND OTHER MATTERS. 229 
 
 of visage, "it's only the Members of the Council I have 
 chosen to advise with that I mean to pay." 
 
 " Council ! " cried O'Ehea, and laid his face on his arm 
 and laughed. " It's too ridiculous — absurd beyond every- 
 thing ! Excuse me, Hutcheon, but I did think that was only 
 a joke of yours about the Council ! " 
 
 " It was not a joke ! " said the Master, calm, but provoked 
 to the highest offence. " Moreover, they did not think it a 
 joke ; and my word is passed to them, and paid they shall 
 be — paid every week end." 
 
 " Oh, very well," said O'Rhea, now rather alarmed that 
 he saw the Master's offence. " But I suppose you will con- 
 sider that a sum about as much as they would make by 
 weaving will be enough for them ? " 
 
 " I will not consider anything of the kind, Fergus ! " de- 
 clared the Master. " It is not agreeable with my honour or 
 my position that the old friends that serve me as counsel- 
 lors should have no more siller in their pouches than if 
 they were weaving wabs for hard task-masters. They shall 
 have twice as much. Whatever ilk ane has been in the 
 way of making, twice as much as that shall be paid him 
 by me ! " 
 
 " Very well, Hutcheon," said O'Rhea humbly, while in 
 liis heart he cursed the Council and the Master's prepos- 
 terous view of his dignity. " The money is yours, and the 
 whole business is yours, and it is only for me to accept your 
 arrangements." 
 
 " There is another thing, Fergus," said the Master, re- 
 suming his more gracious manner. "Ye have been very 
 busy about my affairs — busier than all the rest of us put to- 
 gether, and it cannot be that ye have a great deal of siller." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed O'Rhea. " You are not proposing 
 to pay me, Hutcheon ? No, no ! That would be too mucli 
 of an insult." 
 
 " It would, Fergus. I was not proposing that ; but I am 
 at a loss. As I say, ye cannot have a hantle o' siller, and I 
 have plenty; and ye have expenses; well, then, what is 
 there I can do to make ye comfortable ? " 
 
 ' Nothing, Hutcheon, nothing," said O'Rhea, promptly 
 
230 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 taking advantage of the position to show himself in an 
 agreeable light. " This is a labour of love with me." 
 
 " But even the labourer of love is worthy of his hire." 
 
 " Then give it me ! " cried the adroit O'Ehea, flinging 
 out his scarred, hairy hand to the Master. " Your liking, 
 Hutcheon, your friendship, your confidence ! " 
 
 " Ye have them, Fergus ! " said the Master with sparkling 
 eye, taking the proffered hand in his strong, steady grasp. 
 " And I thank ye on my own account, on my dead brither's 
 account, and on account of the poor folk ye're working to 
 help ! " 
 
 " By George, Hutcheon I " said O'Ehea, " you have a 
 stronger grip than any man I know I Your fingers feel as 
 if they were cased in iron ! " 
 
 And thus the bond of trust was sealed between them. 
 
 The five members of the Council were paid (Hamish, at 
 the Master's bidding, setting down the payments in a penny 
 version-book, and thenceforward proudly regarding himself 
 as the King's Secretary)— they were paid, and they thought 
 vastly more of the Master and his scheme on that account. 
 They had already been impressed by his new authority and 
 eloquence (" He has mair gift o' the gab than I gi'ed him 
 credit for," was a repeated saying of Willie Wilson), and 
 they had been attracted by his promises. Now his words 
 had become a tangible reality, and they lauded him and the 
 "Flitting" to the skies. They became as earnest for the 
 new Cause as years before they had been for the old, and 
 they were on the instant as zealous and fervid in urging it 
 upon their families and friends as if it were a new message 
 of Salvation. They did not yet forsake their looms alto- 
 gether, but they would be driven forth in the middle of the 
 morning or of the afternoon, by effusion of feeling and the 
 itch of money in their pockets, to Jean Frazer's " shop " at 
 the bottom of the loan, where they would sit over their 
 dram-glasses and discuss their prospects by the hour; the 
 evening they devoted to making secret proselytes to their 
 gospel — all except Steven, who, having little power of speech, 
 earned his pay as Commander of the uniformed Native Con- 
 tingent by cocking his bonnet with a more martial air and 
 
AFFAIRS OF STATE, AND OTHER MATTERS. 231 
 
 jutting his handsome calves and winking at the lasses more 
 gallantly than ever. 
 
 Of all that the Master saw little, for he was much from 
 home. He was either occupied in the town with the busi- 
 ness of his inheritance from his brother or of the expedition 
 to Andaman, or else he was engaged with the affairs of love. 
 His sweetheart was not far off, and he could not let a day 
 pass without something of the sustenance of communion 
 with her. They commonly met on the margin of Freedom, 
 which, though to Hamish it appeared a weary distance from 
 Ilkastane, was only about as many furlongs oft' as to the 
 legs of extreme youth it seemed miles. There was no ar- 
 rangement that that wild and breezy region should be their 
 trysting-place, but the Master had chanced upon her there 
 one day on his return from a business visit to his shred of 
 landed estate on the borders of the moss, and there by a 
 tacit understanding they continued to meet. The Master 
 had once affectionately inquired of her why she was so fond 
 of taking her daily walks there, and the answer was char- 
 acteristic of her bright, fanciful, but withal melancholy 
 nature. 
 
 " Oh, I do not know ! " she exclaimed, with a swelling 
 sigh, as if for something unattainable and inexpressible. 
 " It is because I like it, and I do not like it. The wild grass 
 and the rushes, and the heather and the running water, and 
 the boys with cows that moo far off, and dogs that bark, 
 make me think of the past and the future, and everything, 
 and I feel nice and happy, with a bird singing in my heart, 
 or sad and empty, and I wish to die. Do you know that 
 feeling, mon ami f " 
 
 But "mon ami," tor all his whimsical dreaming and his 
 unfamiliarity with any but the sadder and more sordid sides 
 of life, had a practical, Scottish sense of the economic value 
 of existence. 
 
 " No, hinny, I do not know the feeling," he answered 
 seriously. "Oh, I understand fine what ye would be at, 
 but I have never had the feeling myself, and I would not 
 encourage it. I doubt it means," said he, smiling tenderly 
 on her, "an idle mind; and I have aye had the folk and 
 
232 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 their troubles and trials to think of, and now I have Anda- 
 man and the arrangements for that — and I have you, my 
 dawtie, and with all they things I can never find it in me 
 to wish to die." 
 
 " Do you not love me ? " she then suddenly demanded 
 with a clouded, doubtful look. 
 
 " Love ye ! " he said, and his voice and eyes were suffused 
 with tenderness. "Spier at me if I love all that's bonny 
 
 and sweet, and leal and true ! — if I " but his dithyrambs 
 
 were interrupted by the fairy little lady. 
 
 " Then do not preach to me any more. Call me ' m'amie,^ " 
 she said with a pretty pout. 
 
 " That sounds to me like ' mammy,' and ye're not that," 
 he said with a smile. " I suppose it's French, and I'm uo 
 hand at the French." 
 
 " But you must learn, inon ami, because I am French." 
 
 " Ye're not just altogether that," said he, " for half of ye 
 should be Scottish." 
 
 " Well, just to please you," said she, " I will be as Scottish 
 as I am able, though I like being French best. But you 
 must be a nice, noble lover, and let me be French some- 
 times. And, if you please, do not preach at me, mon ami. 
 Say beautiful things to me— you say beautiful things some- 
 times—but do not preach," she insisted. " My gouvernante 
 preached to make me different from what I was, and I did 
 not like it. Tell me : do you not like me as I am ? " 
 
 " Like ye to be as ye are ? " he exclaimed. " I wouldna 
 alter a curl of your bonny head, my dawtie." 
 
 " Say ' m'arnie,'' " she requested. 
 
 "Maw-mie," he said, "but " 
 
 " No, no," she insisted. " You must not say ' but ' ! You 
 have said a pretty thing, and you must not preach." 
 
 " I was just going to say this, maw-mie," he persisted 
 gently. "Andaman is afore us, and we must think of 
 ruling and advising and helping the folk when we get them 
 there. We must both think of that, for ye're to be aye by 
 my side helping and advising with me." 
 
 " Always in Andaman, both of us ? " she asked. 
 
 " Surely," he said. " Will we no ? " 
 
AFFAIRS OF STATE, AND OTHER MATTERS. 233 
 
 " I cannot tell," she said. " Do not say more of it now. 
 We are in Freedom, and Andaman is far off. Let us sit 
 here and look at the trout in the water. Oh, here are blue- 
 bells ! — the blue-bells of Scotland, are they not, mon 
 ami ? " 
 
 That was the character of their talk during these walks 
 in Freedom — he striving gently to be serious when he was 
 not dithyrambic (and much inclined, it must be admitted, 
 to "preach," like all his race), for his love for this bright 
 little humming-bird of a lady, no more than any other in- 
 terest of his life, could he take lightly ; and she evading his 
 best efforts with smiles, and changing, fleeting notes of vi- 
 vacity and all the instinctive wiles of womankind. There 
 was little direct love-making, for Elsie M'Cree was always 
 of the company to play propriety ; and though Elsie dis- 
 creetly and generously pretended to be occupied with gath- 
 ering flowers and plaiting rushes out of earshot, and often 
 out of eyeshot, singing to herself the while to let it be 
 understood she was not noting the behaviour of the lovers, 
 yet they took small advantage of her discretion and gener- 
 osity. They would stroll hand in hand by the winding 
 burn, and he would look down upon her with protective 
 tenderness (" she is such a bonny wee thing ! " he thought), 
 and she would look up in sweet reverence or in bird-like 
 shrewdness ( " He is so great and good ! " she thought, or, 
 "Oh, what a terribly serious, dear, big thing he is!"). 
 Even when they sat down upon a moss-grown granite boul- 
 der, he was so shy that the utmost familiarity of love he 
 attained was to kiss her two little white hands, while 
 she, demure 9,nd mischievous as a kitten, would at times 
 permit herself to tug his sweeping moustache, pinch his 
 ear, or set his bonnet awry upon his head, and then skip 
 away, laughing half in fear of what she had done. 
 
 That agreeable philandering went on for a week or two, 
 till one day George Lepine met the party of three as it was 
 leaving Freedom. A single look at George's face made it 
 plain that he had been somehow informed of these trysts, 
 and the Master at once felt he was in a false position, and 
 wondered that he had not thought of it before. In a mutual 
 16 
 
234 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 unexpressed desire for explanation both the men fell behind 
 the girls. 
 
 "You come here often, I daresay, Mr. Hutcheon," said 
 George seriously. 
 
 "Maist every afternoon," answered the Master. 
 
 " Do you remember coming to see me once to point out 
 that I was jeopardising a girl's good name ? " 
 
 " Dod ! " exclaimed the Master, " and you're I'ight, man ! 
 Just see how ye forget that when ye're in yourself ! I sup- 
 pose there's the wish natural to every man to keep his court- 
 ing a secret. I suppose that, without thinking about it one 
 way or t'other, ye feel there's sometliing sweet and bonny 
 atween you twa that no other body should intermeddle wi'. 
 But, of course, I'll do the right thing. I must come and 
 have a word with the Bailie." 
 
 " You want to marry my sister ? " queried George, with 
 open, considering eyes. 
 
 " Surely I " answered the Master. " What other ? " George 
 said nothing, but stepped along thoughtfully. "Do you 
 think," demanded the Master, "your father will say me 
 'No'?" 
 
 "Oh, no," answered George. "It's not that he'll do. 
 You're the Master of Hutcheon and you've come into a 
 fortune. I am thinking," he said with a sneering laugh, 
 " he may be glad to get his daughter off on such good 
 terms." 
 
 " What for that ? " asked the Master, half stopping, with 
 his gaze fixed on the young man's face. 
 
 " Oh," said the young man, " only because he has a 
 notion of marrying again." 
 
 " Is that so, man 1 " exclaimed the Master. " Weel, it's 
 natural, I daursay, in a man that's no so very auld, to weary 
 o' lying his lone." 
 
 " Ay," said George, with a sudden gush of bitterness, " but 
 he has lain his lone so long he might have finished up as 
 he had gone on, or at least have turned his eye on some- 
 body more beseeming his age. How would you like, Mr. 
 Hutcheon," he burst forth, " to see your father courting 
 your sweetheart ? " 
 
"OH, LOVE, LOVE 1—" 235 
 
 "Hoot, man," exclaimed the Master. "Ye don't mean 
 that ! " 
 
 " But I do 1 That's the very thing I do mean." 
 
 The Master more closely considered the appearance and 
 demeanour of the young man, and noted that he was less 
 carefully and elegantly brushed and buttoned than was 
 his wont, and that his step had lost much of its remark- 
 able spring. It was plain he was wading deep in trou- 
 ble and perplexity, and the Master's sympathy went out 
 to him. 
 
 " Eh, man," said he, " but I'm real sorry for ye ! I can 
 see ye're just foundered and forfoughteii ! Is there a'thing 
 I can do to get ye out of that and help ye ower the stile ? " 
 
 " You're very kind," said George, despondently, " but I've 
 got myself into the mess, and I'm thinking I must get my- 
 self out. Up till now I have been able to say nothing one 
 way or another. It's hard for Elsie to fence and fend him 
 oflP, and me just to sit still and look on." 
 
 " Ay," said the Master, " it's a gey mishanter ! But ye 
 must speak out, man, in case the worst may happen. I tell 
 ye what. The morn's Saturday ; I'll come in the afternoon 
 to speak to the Bailie about my own affair, and ye'd better 
 out wi' yours at the same time, and I'se uphold ye in it ; for 
 Elsie deserves all I can do for her." 
 
 And that was agreed to. George admitted the Master's 
 support might aid him, for the Bailie, he knew, had a 
 high opinion of Hutcheon. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXVIII. 
 
 " OH, LOVE, LOVE !— " 
 
 Had the Master supposed for a moment that the issue 
 of his own suit to the Bailie was likely to be in doubt, it is 
 probable that even he would have hesitated to offer help to 
 
236 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 George in his desperate case. But he had no doubt. Why 
 should he have ? He -n-as the Master of Hutcheon, the 
 possessor of a considerable fortune, and he was invested 
 with great dignity and honour by the Queen ; but not for 
 these reasons did he look forward serenely to his interview 
 with the Bailie. The true inwardness of his confident con- 
 dition was not that he thought so much of himself, but that 
 he thought so little of the Bailie. He loved the Bailie's 
 daughter, and intended to marry her "in due course," and 
 he was about to give himself the pleasure (which he had 
 somewhat delayed) of informing the Bailie of these facts. 
 That was all. The Bailie was not the Queen nor the Duke 
 of Gordon, nor even an honest bonnet laird, to be sued cap 
 in hand for permission to wed ; he was, in the Master's eyes, 
 of no more account than M'Cree, who had in the distant 
 past brought him north from the house of bondage at 
 Penicuik. 
 
 So on Saturday afternoon, with a warm heart and an 
 easy mind, the Master took his way to Corbie Ha', arrayed 
 in his best blue coat in honour of the occasion. He was, in 
 truth, about to encounter one of the determining crises of 
 his life, but he had no hint and he made no guess of that, 
 and he went to meet his fate calmly and steadily. He took 
 Hamish with him, because the boy begged that he might 
 again see the Garden of Corbie Ha' (the gooseberries were 
 beginning to ripen), and O'Rhea lay in the cottage just over 
 the Bailie's garden wall — lay like a mottled spider beneath 
 a leaf at the end of one of the strands of his monstrous web. 
 But of the significance of these facts more anon. 
 
 In order to appreciate the temper in which the Master 
 found the Bailie's family, it is necessary to precede him by 
 some minutes and note their converse. 
 
 The weather was warm ; the Saturday dinner or lunch 
 was over ; and coffee was served in the garden under a 
 spreading chestnut just without the dining-room window. 
 Near to them in the sun was Aimee's cockatoo on his 
 perch, and a step farther off in the grass her cat watching 
 the bird with the eyes of a basilisk. The Bailie and his son 
 both sat in low basket chairs and smoked their cigars in 
 
'•OH, LOVE, LOVE!—" 237 
 
 silence, with close jealous eyes on each other aud on Elsie, 
 who chanced tp sit between them, inflaming the hearts of 
 both with her full, sensuous beauty, which was as that of a 
 red rose in June when it bursts from bud to flower. The 
 languid warm air hung as it were dripping from the chest- 
 nut leaves, and the only sound was the drowsy voice of the 
 cockatoo muttering behind his beak, while he skinned his 
 ej^es over with their horny lids and now and then turned 
 one bright orb on the cat — " Cocky wants some toast. . . . 
 Warm as a pie. . . . Warm as a pie ! " 
 
 " Swear, Cocky, you beast 1 " cried the Bailie, flinging 
 away the end of his cigar, and sitting up with the veins of 
 his head surcharged with over-heated blood. " Make him 
 swear, Aimee.'' 
 
 Cocky raised his crest and began uttering certain un- 
 couth unintelligible sounds which O'Rhea had said were 
 Malayan oaths — and no one could contradict him. 
 
 " Oh, papa ! " cried Aimee. " How can you encourage 
 him to be so wicked 1 " 
 
 " Swear more, you rascal 1 " cried the Bailie. " Elsie, you 
 speak to him, and see what he say 1 " 
 
 Elsie rose and went to the bird. But she spoke sooth- 
 ingly to him, and her quaint, cooing tones allayed the pas- 
 sion which the Bailie's loud voice had roused. 
 
 " Kiss Cocky ! — kiss, kiss ! " said the bird. 
 
 Elsie bent her lovely mouth to the bird. 
 
 "Ah, take care," cried the Bailie, jumping up, "he will 
 bite ! " 
 
 But Cocky most perfunctorily touched the ripe red lips 
 with his beak, and uttered a " click," which he had been 
 taught as the sound of a kiss. 
 
 " Ah, now ! " exclaimed the Bailie by Elsie's side. " Mc, 
 I think that fowl a dam fool." 
 
 " And is he auld, sir, too ? " asked Elsie, in quaint, sweet 
 simplicity of tone. 
 
 " Comment ! How ? " said the Bailie. " What you 
 mean ? " 
 
 " They say, ye ken, sir, ' There's nae fool like an auld 
 fool.' " 
 
238 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 " Ah,'' said the Bailie, smiling; but his smile changed to 
 a frown when he heard a suppressed laugh from his son. 
 He continued, however, " How old, now, do you think me I 
 am?" 
 
 "Oh,'' said Elsie, with a gentle, rallying laugh which 
 could not offend, " I couldna guess, sir. Nae doubt ye're gey 
 auld. I've heard my father say that him and you was 
 young together." 
 
 " What think you," asked the Bailie, " of sixty-two 
 year ? " 
 
 " Sixty-twa ! " exclaimed Elsie. " Eh, me ! I thought ye'd 
 been aulder than that ! " 
 
 It was at that moment that Jaques announced the Master 
 of Hutcheon. Elsie slipped off to Aimee's side, and to- 
 gether they disappeared into the bosky depth of the garden, 
 where trees and bushes seemed to reach out straining 
 branches or trailing tendrils to embrace or to touch their 
 sweet bodies as they went by. The Bailie looked after them 
 with fast-winking eyes and agitated thought ; and it must 
 be allowed that either was enough to move an anchorite or 
 to warm the fishy blood of St. Anthony himself — the one 
 small, but plump and sprightly as a bird, and the other with 
 the height and proportions of a goddess and the gait of a 
 queen. The poor Bailie sighed like a furnace, and returned 
 to the consciousness of Jaques's presence. 
 
 " Eh, what ? " he said, staring at Jaques, while his son 
 noted him with narrow gaze. 
 
 " Monsieur le Malfre, Monsieur le Bailli" answered 
 Jaques. 
 
 " Ah, Old" answered the Bailie. " We are not in cere- 
 mony with the Master. Conduct him here, Jaques." 
 
 In a second or two the Master appeared, leading Hamish 
 by the hand — Hamish clad in the glory of the Gordon 
 coloui's. 
 
 "Ah," exclaimed the Bailie, "the little boy! the little 
 soldier Ecossais ! You are welcome, M^sieu le Maitre." 
 
 "I have a word for yoiir private ear. Bailie," said the 
 Master, standing tall above the stout manufacturer and 
 graciously inclining his head. 
 
"OH, LOVE, LOVE!—" 239 
 
 "I am your servant, M'sieii le Maitre,'" said the Bailie, 
 bowing low; for, as always, the Master's manner, the 
 Master's eye, and the Master's nose dominated him. " You 
 will take a glass of wine, m'sieii i George, bring a bottle of 
 claret." 
 
 " I thank you. Bailie," said the Master, arresting George 
 with his eye. "But I'm no for the claret- wine the now; 
 it's but the ninth hour of the day, so to speak, and it's 
 only at night that I indulge me wi' a glass of usque- 
 bagh ! " 
 
 " How it please you, ni'sieu,^' said the Bailie. " It is equal. 
 And the boy — the little soldier Ecossais — wQl run into the 
 garden and put the nose to the roses ; but he will not pluck 
 the roses, because the roses is for tlie pretty ladies, and not 
 for the soldiei-s Ecossais ; for them is drums (r-ran-plan- 
 plan) and swords, heiii i ' 
 
 "Ay," said the boy, with the disjointed boastfulness of 
 childhood, " our folk was aye men o' the sword ; and we're 
 gaun to ha'e a Native Contingent." 
 
 The Bailie stared with amazement to hear the boy thus 
 answer him. 
 
 " He's an auld-farrant chield,'' said the Master, with a 
 severe eye on the boy, " Now, go your ways, as the Bailie 
 ' tells ye, my laddie.'' 
 
 So Hamish, after a lingering look at Cocky, disappeared 
 into the shady depths of the garden, and the Master sat 
 down. 
 
 "Now," said the Bailie, "at your service, m'sieu." (His 
 son sat a little way off with his head thro-^vn back.) 
 
 " I'll be three-and-thirty come Martinmas, Bailie," began 
 the Master. 
 
 The Bailie bowed. 
 
 " It is four-five minute when it was said to me, as I say 
 to you, m^sien, ' I thought you was older nor that.' " 
 
 " I daursay," said the Master, " I look older. My life has 
 aye, wi" one thing and another, been thick with trouble, as 
 the wood o' Maiden Craig is thick wi' trees, and that, I 
 daursay, has told upon me. But I'm strong as an oak. 
 Fient an hour's ill health have I had all my life long, and I 
 
2i0 THE KING OF AXDAMAN. 
 
 can do a day's work wi' any man. I have never drucken 
 except in reason, nor eaten — nor any other thing." 
 
 " I understand, m^sieu,'^ said the Bailie. " It is very well, 
 m'sieu. It is not that many men is able to say, if they will 
 speak the true." 
 
 "Dinna think, Bailie," said the Master, " that I'm saying 
 that for my credit's sake. Grod forbid ! The Almighty has 
 made me like that — to go straight on — just as He has made 
 other men to go withershins. Weel, I'm the last o' the 
 Masters o' Hutcheon — Lords Hutcheon by rights. I've 
 no brother now, nor other proper kin to take the name 
 up." 
 
 " Oh, but you are young, in'sieu,'" said the Bailie, in his 
 simplicity helping on the Master's purpose, " and you will 
 marry a nice young lady — with what you say — a tocker." 
 
 " 'Deed, Bailie," exclaimed the Master, '' and that's just 
 what I wish to do, tocher or no tocher ; for, thank God ! I 
 have plenty, and think it's a pity that a good auld name 
 should die out." 
 
 " Certainly it is pity,'' agreed the Bailie. 
 
 " I think it is. Bailie,'' said the Master with a smile, " and 
 that's what for I'm here — ye understand ? " 
 
 " Comment ! How, m^sieu ? " 
 
 " Weel," said the Master, " her and me understand one ' 
 another. We have come together, and I think we'll make a 
 fitting match o't." 
 
 The Bailie cast his eyes this way and that in the to-and- 
 fro of sudden inquiry. 
 
 "You mean Aimee, m.sieu ? — my daughter ? But ' come 
 together,' M'sieu le Maitre — what you mean sir ? '■ 
 
 '■ Hoot, man," said the Master, in deliberate explanation. 
 " To speak the language that, I suppose, is used at this kind 
 o' season — though for myself I like it to be keepit for private 
 use — I love her, and by a' tokens she loves me, and the fact 
 is we're gey well pleased wi' one another." 
 
 " You mean Aimee, m'sieu ? — my daughter ? " again in- 
 quired the Bailie. 
 
 " Ay, surely ! " exclaimed the Master. " Wha other '{ " 
 
 '• And you wish to marry her ? " 
 
"OH, LOVE, LOVE!—" 241 
 
 " Surely ! " exclaimed the Master again. " When a lad 
 loves a lass, Bailie, isna that what he wants to do ? " 
 
 The Bailie shrugged his shoulder to his ear and squeezed 
 out a smile. 
 
 " Sometime, m'sieu" said he, while he shot a rapid glance 
 at his son, a glance which the Master followed. " But you 
 wi.sh to marry you,'' continued the Bailie. " Oni, oui;''^ and 
 he gently nodded his head as in close consideration, and 
 stole a sharp look or two at the Master. • 
 
 "Weel, now. Bailie," said the Master, after a pause, 
 bringing eye and nose to bear upon him, " what do ye say ? " 
 
 " Oui, oui" murmured the Bailie, still nodding. " You 
 wish now to appear truly the Maitre d'Hutcheoii, and to 
 make Aimee the Maitresse, and to live you in proper con- 
 dition 'like grand seigneur — n't'-st ce pas f " 
 
 "As to that. Bailie," said the Master, "I am for the 
 present under the Queen's orders." 
 
 " The Queen's orders ! " exclaimed the Bailie, with a voice 
 of wonder and an eye of inquiry. 
 
 "Ay," said the Master, "but it's a secret, man." Father 
 and son exchanged looks of interest and amazement. Could 
 this be true in very deed 1 " I have Her Majesty's orders 
 appointing me what to do, and her own exact words are 
 ' secrecy and dispatch.' " 
 
 "Ah, Old!'' exclaimed the Bailie, now all interest and 
 respect. "/Sa Majeste! A secret mission? La haute 
 politique! Oui, oui! And it is far away and for a long 
 time, M'sieu le Mattre ? " 
 
 "It's ower the sea," answered the Master, speaking as 
 carefully as if he were stating a conundrum, " and it'll be 
 for as long as it may be. I am no free to say more the now. 
 Bailie," he added, for apart from the fact that "secrecy" 
 had been enjoined by the Royal letter, he saw clearly that 
 the Bailie could not approve of some details of his expedi- 
 tion, because it would mean, for one thing, the disorganisa- 
 tion of the wincey manufacture. 
 
 " Oh, it is very well ; it is equal," said the Bailie airily. 
 "We are good friend, m'sieu," he added with a dip of his 
 head, " and I am pleased that you be my gender— what you 
 
242 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 say, good-son, son-in-law ; but, m^sieu, it is able to put itself 
 off. When you come back from the secret mission will be 
 time soon enough to marry you and to sit you down truly 
 the Mattre cVHutcheony 
 
 " But, Bailie," said the Master, " it's a needcessity that 
 my wife goes wi' me. Ye'U understand that fine when I 
 tell you all about it. And she'll be well cared for and well 
 provided." 
 
 " Oui, Old ! " said the Bailie, looking imcertainly at his 
 fingers. " Well, m'sieu, I will think — yes, I will think. We 
 are good friend, and I am always please to oblige you." 
 
 "And I have thought. Bailie," said the Master, taking up 
 George's case now that he imagined his own satisfactorily 
 arranged, " that it would be a comely and pleasant thing to 
 have the two weddings together ; " and he glanced at 
 George, as if for approval of his craft in thus introducing 
 the matter. 
 
 " Hein i " cried the Bailie in a sharp note of surprise and 
 impatience, while George turned deathly pale. " Two wed- 
 dings ? Two ? What you mean, m'sieu ? " 
 
 " I know what the Master means, father," said George. 
 
 He sat up desperate to face the situation. As many an 
 eloquent preacher is before he enters the pulpit, and many a 
 brave soldier on the eve of a battle, so was George before 
 the Master's words compelled him to stand forth ; his nerves 
 were drawn tight as the strings of a fiddle-bow — deadly 
 tight as tlie bow-string of an Eastern executioner — and he 
 would have given a life's ransom to be rapt away and de- 
 livered from the necessity of making his statement to his 
 father. But now that he must face the situation he was 
 self-possessed and eloquent as the preacher, alert and cour- 
 ageous as the soldier. 
 
 " Quoi ? " demanded the Bailie, and his eyes seemed as if 
 they could bore holes in his son. " You know ! What you 
 know ? " 
 
 " I know," said George, " that the Master is thinking of 
 me and Elsie M'Cree. He knows that we love one another, 
 that we have loved one another a long time, and that I have 
 been waiting to tell you about it." 
 
"OH, LOVE, love:—" 243 
 
 " Elsie ! You ! Ah, va-f-en ! You are mad ! You are 
 fool ! " cried the Bailie, flinging out his hand, and fluttering 
 it wildly at his son, wliile his face flamed with passion. 
 
 "I have waited, father," said George, "till I could bear 
 it no longer — I have waited only because I did not wish to 
 displease you, or anger you." 
 
 " It do displease me ! " broke in the Bailie. " It do anger 
 mel" 
 
 " Please listen to me, father," continued the young man 
 earnestly. " I cannot express to you how much I love her. 
 And you can see for yourself not only how beautiful she is, 
 but how good and sweet-tempered she is, and how quickly 
 she has got into lady-like ways ; '' and much more to the 
 same effect, during the recital of which his father glared, not 
 at him, but at the crested cockatoo, which, excited by the 
 raised voices, muttered and swore, not loud but deep, till 
 the enraged Bailie flung a pebble at him, upon which he 
 squawked and dropped from his perch. "It has come to 
 this with me, father," the son ended with, " I must marry 
 Elsie or die. And now, father, I dutifully ask for your 
 permission." 
 
 " Non, non ! — non, non .' '^ cried the Bailie, turning on 
 him furiously. " I will not allow ! Comprends-tnf I will 
 not! Non, non! — non, non! That is my word! I say it 
 to you ten ! fifteen ! fifty !— a hundred time I " 
 
 " Why, father ? " asked the young man with tolerable 
 coolness. 
 
 "Because — because I will not it permit! That is why ! 
 Marry ! You ! Pif ! And love ! What know you of love ? 
 It is of a calf ! You are a boy, what have not been beat 
 with tawse sufficient! And when you marry you, sir, I 
 find you girl with tocker, with money ! Elsie — Elsie is very 
 well, but Elsie have not a shilling." 
 
 "You might as well, father," declared the young man, 
 " speak of Venus not having a shilling ! Venus, I believe, 
 had scarcely a rag to her back, and Elsie is not so badly off' 
 as that." 
 
 " You speak, sir," said the Bailie, easily caught into con- 
 troversy, " like a young jackass ! You have learn something 
 
2i4 THE KING OP AKDAMAN. 
 
 at college, but me, I have learn something also, though I 
 was not at college ! And me, I know that Venus was not 
 for marriage! She was pour V amour ! Marriage! Pif ! 
 You, you are young ! You are calf ! You have the tooth 
 of milk ! You have not sow what they say the wild corn, 
 and you speak of marriage ! And for the Elsie baggage " 
 
 " Wisht, Bailie," commanded the Master, laying his hand 
 on the furious father's arm. " Ye must not miscall the 
 lassie in my hearing ! " The Bailie glanced at his neigh- 
 bour, and was subdued by the overbearing eye and nose ; 
 he rolled his head in angry impatience, but he held his 
 tongue. " The lassie is a good lassie and a bonny, man — 
 say to the contrar' wha will," continued the Master. " And 
 she's ilka bit as well born as your son, though she's no so 
 well educate, and has no so much hope o' gear ; but that's 
 no blame to her. Let's be canny and reasonable. Bailie, 
 and no give way to angry passion that ilk ane o' us maj' 
 repent o'. And now I'll say this more. Bailie — I owe the 
 M'Crees kindness, and to even your son and Elsie a wee bit, 
 I'll give the lassie five hunder pounds to her tocher. But I 
 winna try to persuade ye ayant yourself. Bailie. Let's say 
 no more about it the now. Sleep on't. Bailie ; put it aneath 
 your pillow, and lay your head on't. And now I must be 
 setting off hame, when I've found the laddie." 
 
 He rose ; all three rose, the Bailie's face now looking- dull 
 and gloomy, and they marched forward into the depth of 
 the garden to find the rest of the company. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 LOVE TRAVERSED. 
 
 It is a pity that the young are not taken more account 
 of in the affairs of life. Even a mother will fail to con- 
 sider that the joys and the sorrows, the pleasure and the 
 
LOVE TRAVERSED. 245 
 
 pain of lier children may be as poignant as those of people 
 of mature years ; they do not last so long, but while they 
 last they may be more acute than those of the full-grown. 
 Now, it may appear preposterous, but it is nevertheless true, 
 that the love affair of the Master, and by that token his 
 further history, was more affected by the jealous passion 
 of Hamish M'Cree, aged eight or thereabouts, than by any- 
 thing else I can name. For Hamish was in love with the 
 Master's sweetheart — desperately, romantically, divinely in 
 love with the fairy princess who had kissed and caressed 
 him, praised and petted him ; he dreamed of her by night 
 and mused on her by day, and he wondered with the ex- 
 tremest alternations of hope and fear whether she would be 
 willing to wait for liim, and whether, when he was suffi- 
 ciently grown, she would come to him in Andaman at his 
 invitation. What with his daily musings on the young 
 lady (in addition to his continued attendance at school), his 
 conversations with Steven in regard to the levying and 
 training of the Native Contingent, and his visits to O'Rhea 
 to hear more and still more about Andaman, he had been 
 little in the company of the Master for a week or two, and 
 had never gone with him on the expeditions to Freedom ; 
 and he, therefore, had not guessed he had a rival in the 
 Master — did not guess until that Saturday afternoon. 
 
 When he was dismissed from the presence of the Bailie 
 and the Master, into the depths of the garden, he speedily 
 came upon his fairy princess and the attendant Elsie, who, 
 having been familiar to his senses since ever he could re- 
 member, was altogether without merit or attraction. Both 
 Aimee and Elsie were excited with the purpose for which 
 they guessed the Master had come, and in their excitement 
 they played upon the tender feelings of Hamish with the 
 mischievous abandon which almost always marks such 
 traffic of young women with little boys who are to their 
 liking ; I suppose because they have a serene and certain 
 consciousness that little boys can effect no serious reprisals. 
 
 " Oh, ye're come, are ye ? " was Elsie's greeting, while 
 the fairy princess stooped and kissed him and admired his 
 tartan array. "Now," continued his aunt, "we'll ha'e 
 
246 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 naething to say till ye if ye dinna tell's what the Maister has 
 come for." 
 
 "I dinna ken," was Hamish's careless answer. 
 
 " What said he to the Bailie ? " asked Elsie, and Aimee 
 enforced the question by repeating it in her own way. 
 
 " He said," answered Hamish, " that he wanted a private 
 word ; but I dinna ken what he meant by that." 
 
 "But we ken," said Elsie. "Aha, laddie! Dinna we, 
 Aimee ? " 
 
 " Taisez-vous, Elsie," said Aimee, blushing. While the 
 blush suffused her she stooped again and embraced the boy, 
 saying, " You are nice, bonny laddie in tartan clothes." 
 
 " Eh," exclaimed Elsie, ", dinna tell him that ! He thinks 
 enough o' himsel' ! He'll be saying neist that ' Whaur ha'e 
 ye been a' the day ? ' was made up for him ! " 
 
 Hamish looked at Elsie and made the vindictive resolu- 
 tion never to forgive her for speaking of him so in the hear- 
 ing of the fairy princess ; but the princess made him amends 
 by saying : 
 
 " So grand a Highland laddie must have a sweetheart ; 
 come here among the gooseberries and tell me who is your 
 little sweetheart." She led him among the ripe berries, and 
 straightway began to pluck and eat, and invited him to do 
 the same. " Do your little sweetheart like gooseberries ? " 
 she asked carelessly. 
 
 " Ay," said Hamish ; and it is to be reckoned to his credit 
 that, though so young, he perceived the humour of the situa- 
 tion. He smiled wickedly (if I may apply so mature a word 
 to so young a practitioner) as he continued, " Fine that. 
 She likes them as weel as ye do." 
 
 " Does she ? " exclaimed Aimee. " And who is your 
 sweetheart, then ? " 
 
 " Ye are," he answered with simple boldness ; but when 
 he had said that she gazed on him in such astonishment 
 that he hung his head and blushed. 
 
 "You are a droll boy!" she laughed; and humiliation 
 hung heavy about him because she took his declaration 
 with so little seriousness. " Elsie," she called, laughing still, 
 " what you think ? " 
 
LOVE TRAVERSED. 247 
 
 " Dinna tell her I " he pleaded hurriedly. 
 
 But she thought it was all fun, and, still laughing, she 
 told Elsie what he had said. 
 
 " Eh, sirs ! " exclaimed Elsie. " But ye'll be wanting a 
 private word wi' the Bailie yoiu'sel' — winna ye, Hamish 'I — 
 when the Maister's through! But, g-uidsakes, Aimee! it's 
 no fair for you to ha'e twa joes courting ye and spiering 
 for ye ! " 
 
 " Oh, you ! " cried Aimee. " You have two joes your- 
 self ! " 
 
 Elsie blushed and then paled, and for an instant looked 
 as if she would burst into tears. 
 
 " I didna think," said she in a low voice, " ye would joke 
 about that." 
 
 Hamish looked upon them with deep consideration while 
 they embraced and kissed each other. He had paid no at- 
 tention to the cause of their sudden emotion ; his considera- 
 tion was given to his own case. He was not slow to guess 
 that the Master was his rival for the affections of the fairy 
 princess, but he wished to make sure. He timidly plucked 
 the frock of his princess. 
 
 " Is the Maister courting you ? " he asked. 
 
 " You are a droll boy,'' she laughed. 
 
 But Elsie made direct reply to his direct question. 
 
 " Of course the Maister is. Do you think naebody should 
 gang courting but you ? " 
 
 " The Maister's gey auld," he objected. 
 
 So they continued to amuse themselves with him and his 
 green passion, while he remained serious as an owl. Elsie 
 declared that rivals in love affairs frequently settled their 
 rivalry by fighting ; he observed (with a remote relevance 
 of which doubtless he himself was aware) that he could run 
 faster than any boy he knew; and Aimee asked, if she 
 waited for him, how many years would he keep her wait- 
 ing ; to which he had no reply ready. And thus th^y went 
 on till the appearance of the Master and the Bailie. 
 
 Hamish was confirmed in all he had been told by the 
 Master's attention to Aimee ; so that when he was led away 
 he was in a bursting condition of resentment and jealousy. 
 
248 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 But he said no word to the Master. As soon as he could 
 leave Hutcheon's company he ran off to relieve his full heart 
 on O'Rhea, with no thought of vindictiveness, but merely 
 because O'Rhea was always sympathetic, and because (it was 
 patent to the boy) he was cleverer than any other to whom 
 he could talk. 
 
 O'Rhea lay on a sunny patch of grass, wallowing in the 
 enjoyment of the heat. His great hairy arms and neck 
 were bare, for he was clothed only in under-vest and trou- 
 sers ; he wore the Will Atkins handkerchief about his head, 
 and he smoked a black pipe, and altogether looked as pi- 
 ratical as could be desired. He received the boy with som- 
 nolent kindness, but he was slack in his attention to what 
 he had to say, until he heard the following question put : 
 
 "Dinna ye think, F. O., that the Maister's ower auld to 
 be Miss Aimee's man ? " 
 
 Then he sat up as alert as if he had been a pirate and 
 had heard the cry of "A sail on the weather-bow ! " 
 
 " What's that you say, boy ? " he barked in his harshest 
 tone. 
 
 The boy made his meaning evident, and a sharp question 
 or two set it forth clear and threatening as a portent. And 
 then Hamish stood aghast and terrified. For O'Rhea beat 
 his list in his palm, and bellowed in a frothy passion of re- 
 volt and objurgation. Never had Hamish heard anyone 
 called such names of sanguinary folly, stupidity, and idiocy 
 as O'Rhea then called the Master. The boy burst into tears, 
 and declared he would never come to tell him anything 
 again ; and the man's passion sank as suddenly as it had 
 arisen. He drew Hamish to him, and wiped his eyes, and 
 hugged him. (On the whole, Hamish thought he did not 
 like the hugs of men.) 
 
 " Don't you cry, sonny," said O'Rhea, " I'll make this 
 all right. I'll choke Hutcheon — the Master — off ; it'll come 
 all right. And you shall have your sweetheart to yourself. 
 Oh, my commas and full stops ! " he suddenly cried. " For 
 a school-boy that has not yet seen the pons asinorum you're 
 a rare Don Juan ! But I suppose it was bred in the blood 
 and bones of ye, and is bound to come out early. You're 
 
LOVE TRAVERSED. 249 
 
 the son of your father, eh, sonny ? " And he pinched the 
 boy's ear, and again hugged him. " But to think that you 
 should be just the one to put the Master's nose out of joint ! " 
 And lie sniggered and tee-hee'd, and rolled his head and 
 cried, " Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! " Then noting Hamish's anxious 
 look at the hint that he was in some way damaging the 
 Master, the man of breeze and battle threw his hairy arm 
 about the boy's neck, drew him to a seat close at hand, and 
 set him between his knees. " Look here, sonny," said he, 
 striving to allary the erect crop on the boy's head. " You 
 and me are going to sail together a mighty long voyage. 
 You're a jolly boy, a clever boy, the kind of boy I like. I 
 like you as much as if you were my own son. I believe 
 you're just like what I was when I was your age. Do you 
 like me ? " he asked suddenly, as if he doubted it. 
 
 " Ay," answered Hamish with reserve, " I like ye fine." 
 
 " Do ye like me better than the Master ? " 
 
 Hamish hesitated and then made answer : 
 
 " I like the Maister fine, too.'' 
 
 O'Rhea laughed. 
 
 "Well, sonny,'' said he, "I'm going to be better to you 
 than the Master. I'll manage that he sha'n't have your 
 sweetheart. Stick to me, and you shall have your lass and 
 your glass when our topsails are hoisted and we're away to 
 sea ; and 
 
 " ' Wi' your sword and your dirk and your little jacket blue, 
 Vou shall walk the quarter-deck as your daddie used to do ! ' " 
 
 " But my jacket isna blue," objected Hamish. 
 
 " It will be, sonny, it will be ; sky-blue, with silver but- 
 tons ; and we shall have ingots and doubloons, and you shall 
 have cocoanuts galore, in the islands of coral. But, sonny," 
 he added, suddenly tui-ning on the boy's face a sharp side- 
 long look, " there mustn't be a word of this to the Master- 
 not a word, mind. For, d'ye see 2 if you tell Hutcheon 
 what you've told me he'll go straight away and marry your 
 sweetheart; and if he marries her, he'll go and live in a 
 house like other married folk, and beget sons and daugh- 
 ters," he added reflectively, resuming immediately his ex- 
 17 
 
250 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 position of probabilities to the boy, '' and there will be no 
 more of Andaman, no sailing over the seas to lovely islands, 
 no Native Contingents, no cocoanuts, sonny, no nothing ! " 
 
 That truly was O'Rhea's belief, and he was resolved in 
 his masterful way to put a stop to the chance of the Master's 
 marriage. With that purpose he sought an interview next 
 day with the Bailie. With the bracing touch of anxiety on 
 his nerves (for he was aware how difHcult it would be to 
 gain his point without telling more than prudence allowed 
 of the projected expedition to Andaman), he stood on a chair 
 set against the wall and looked over into the garden of Cor- 
 bie Ha'. It was the afternoon of Sunday, and he had ob- 
 served, since the warm weather had begun, that then it was 
 the custom of the Bailie, as of Hamlet's father, to sleep 
 within his orchard, in an arbour screened from draughts. 
 When O'Ehea looked over the Bailie had not yet appeared, 
 and he waited with his arms spread on the mossy top of the 
 old wall and with his chin in his hands. Presently the 
 Bailie sauntered into view, finishing his cigar, and when he 
 came near enough O'Khea spoke. 
 
 " This is a fine, quiet afternoon, Bailie," he said in a tone 
 of Sabbatarian repose. 
 
 "Ah," cried the Bailie, looking up, "c'est mon Mira- 
 heauy 
 
 " You will excuse me. Bailie, for setting my big head up 
 here in this unceremonious fashion; but when the heart -is 
 sore and sad. Bailie, ceremony goes to the wall." 
 
 " Ah, ah, as you do, hein ? — ha, ha ! " 
 
 " That's very neatly said, Bailie, very neat, indeed ! " ex- 
 claimed the flatterer. 
 
 " Come over— will you not ?— and let us have chat." 
 
 " No, thank you, Bailie. You want your nap, and I won't 
 interfere with it. I know your habit, you see. No ; I have 
 been just taking what may be a last look at this lovely, 
 peaceful, shady garden of yours." 
 
 His manner of address was carefully CE^culated from 
 what he knew of the Bailie ; it was artfully compounded of 
 deference, familiarity, and a demand for sympathy. 
 
 " Yes," said the Bailie, swelling himself and his pockets 
 
LOVE TEAVEESED. 251 
 
 out as he cast a glance round, "it is nice place. But,'' 
 wheeling sharply back into position, " why ' last look ' 1 
 Hein?" 
 
 " Because, Bailie," said O'Rhea, in a tone of infinite 
 regret, " I am like the Wandering Jew — Le Juif Errant — 
 that your Sue has written about. I must keep moving. I 
 am going away. I think the curse must be on me. I have 
 always been a rover, always engaged in desperate — if benefi- 
 cent — enterprises. I am under orders again— this time for 
 the most desperate and dangerous enterprise I have ever 
 joined. We may never return from it — never again ! never 
 again ! " And he desperately planted his chin in his hands. 
 "And so, you see," he added, as with an attempt at gaiety, 
 " I am a little sad." 
 
 " Ah, c'est ga ! " exclaimed the Bailie, and threw away 
 his cigar among the bushes. 
 
 O'Rhea noted that the Bailie was becoming interested, 
 suspicious, and alarmed, and he continued to provoke these 
 feelings. 
 
 " Yes, that's it. We go away to serve our country and 
 our people, and if there is an end of us — well, then there is 
 the satisfaction beforehand of knowing we shall have done 
 our duty. But I am sad all the same. I have a presenti- 
 ment But why should I bother you with all this ? " 
 
 "I am your obliged, on the contraire, M'sieu Mirabeau," 
 said the Bailie with resolution. " And now you have tell 
 me so much, tell me who is ' we ' ? " 
 
 " Did I say " we,' Bailie ? I must have forgotten myself." 
 
 " No, no, no. You say ' we ' — and shall I say who ' we ' 
 is ? ' We,' m'sieu, is you and your friend the Master 
 d'Hutcheon. He tell me himself ! " 
 
 " Oh, well," said O'Rhea, with apparent relief, " if he 
 told you himself then there's no harm in owning it." 
 
 "And now, between us, tell me what is this secret mission 
 of the Queen ? Where goes it ? If it is la haute politique, 
 why is it so dangerous ? " 
 
 " Oh, excuse me, M'sieu le Bailli," exclaimed O'Rhea in 
 well-feigned alarm ; " if the Master has not told you, cer- 
 tainly I must not ! It is secret, it is dangerous. That is 
 
252 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 enough. And. I must not keep you from your nap, Bailie ; 
 I hope you will enjoy it ; " and he made as if to descend 
 from his perch. 
 
 " Arretez-vous, m^sieu ! " cried the Bailie. " Stop ! It is 
 likely I nap me — is it not ? — after you say these things ! 
 Now I tell you something, and then perhaps you tell me 
 what is this secret mission, because you will see it is of my 
 business. Yesterday the Master come to me and desire 
 to marry my daughter all of a blow — all of a blow, entendez- 
 vous ! " 
 
 " No, really ? " said O'Rhea, raising his head as in a shock 
 of amazement. 
 
 " Vrahnent ! Vraiment ! " cried the Bailie, smiting the 
 one hand in the other. "And I wish for to know why! 
 Here, you say, is enterprise desperate and dangerous, and he 
 say it is of necessity to take wife with him ! And there is 
 more ! He have just spoke to me again, and I have promise 
 he will marry before he go ! Now, wifes is not necessary to 
 men what go for enterprises desperate and dangerous ! Why, 
 then, what is the meaning ? " 
 
 " Well, Bailie," said O'Rhea slowly, as if with a guard on 
 his tongue, " it is no business of mine to explain the Master's 
 conduct ; but I'll give my opinion as a friend. When a 
 man's in love, whatever he wishes seems to him a necessity. 
 You must have observed that. Bailie. And the Master 
 doesn't think this enterprise as dangerous as I do ; but I 
 have been there before, and he hasn't, and I have said to 
 him, as I say to you, it will be more dangerous than he can 
 think — yes, and more costly," he added, with a grim allusive- 
 ness which was lost, of course, on the Bailie, " more costly 
 than he can guess." 
 
 "Come, then, come," said the Bailie persuasively, "what 
 is this enterprise ? " 
 
 " It would be more than my neck is worth. Bailie, to tell 
 you. You don't know, perhaps, what a terrible determined 
 devil of a fellow the Master can be. He may seem to you 
 always tete montee, or nose in the air ; but he is not to be 
 turned aside, and when he is angry he burns at a white heat. 
 Did you ever hear what he did to Hew Tamson because he 
 
A SYMPOSIUM, 253 
 
 believed the fellow had betrayed him J '' The Bailie nodded 
 and gnawed his thumb. " Well, so would he do to the man 
 that would tell you what you have asked." He turned again 
 as if to descend from his station, and then of a sudden he 
 leaned over the wall as in pity of the Bailie's obvious un- 
 certainty, and said hurriedly, " You've been a good friend to 
 me, Bailie, and I'll permit myself one word before I bid you 
 good-day : If I were you, and had your daughter, I would 
 chew all temper and swallow it ; not a syllable would I utter 
 to the Master, but I would make sure that he should not see 
 my daughter again until he be back from this enterprise. 
 Good-afternoon, Bailie." 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 A SYMPOSIUM. 
 
 "Now," said O'Rhea to himself when he had dropped on 
 his own side of the wall, " if Frenchy doesn't pack that little 
 limmer of his off in the morning light I'm a Dutchman ! " 
 
 His expectation was completely fulfilled, for on looking 
 forth from his little garden gate next morning early, he saw 
 the Bailie and his daughter and Elsie M'Crea driven away 
 in a cab with luggage. The Bailie waved his hand, and 
 when the cab had passed, O'Rhea stepped out and inquired 
 of his friend Jaques, who lingered at the gate, where the 
 Bailie was gone. Jaques answered that M^sieu le Bailli 
 had gone to Edinburgh on business, and taken his daughter 
 with him ; and O'Rhea returned to his cottage rubbing his 
 hands in satisfaction. 
 
 An hour later he came out arrayed in his sailor rig to 
 conduct the Master into the town ; a desirable vessel — a 
 brigantine — had at length been found for sale, and that day 
 had been set down for its inspection by the Master and for 
 negotiation of its purchase. The business was long drawn 
 
254 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 out, and it was not till the afternoon that the Master 
 could get home to Ilkastane, leaving O'Rhea still in the 
 town. 
 
 He hasted immediately to the old tryst in Freedom, but 
 neither Aimee nor JElsie was to be seen. He returned to 
 Corbie Ha' to inquire for his sweetheart, and Jaques as- 
 tonished him with the information that Miss Lepine was 
 gone with her father to Edinburgh, and that Miss M'Crea 
 had also gone with them. Had no word been left for him ? 
 he asked. No word, M^sieu, said the melancholy Jaques; 
 M^sieu le Bailli had made up his mind all of a blow, but 
 that was the mode of M'sieu le. Bailli. The Master went to 
 his own abode, and presently sought an interview with 
 Elsie's mother ; but she could tell him only that Elsie had 
 run in for an instant that morning to say that the Bailie had 
 suddenly announced a journey to Edinburgh, and that she 
 seemed pleased enough at the prospect. 
 
 Some time later, towards dusk, the Master, bewildered in 
 heart and mind, drove himself forth again to hear what 
 George Lepine might have to say ; and of that came some- 
 tliing of consequence. He found the young man seated 
 alone in the garden; he had dined, and was smoking his 
 after-dinner cigar. 
 
 " I am very glad you have come, Mr. Hutcheon," said he. 
 " I was thinking that presently I would find out your house 
 in the loan and have a talk with you." 
 
 " It's no much of a house I have left to me in Ilkastane," 
 said the Master, " but such as it is I'd like fine to see you 
 there. . . . And so," he added, approaching the matter that 
 was troubling him, '' ye are all your lone." 
 
 "Yes," answered George, and looked hard into the depths 
 of the garden, " I am all alone." 
 
 " Except," added the Master, " for your sister's cat and 
 parrot," which were there before them. 
 
 " Yes," said George, " except for them." 
 
 He still looked hard into the depth of the garden. The 
 Master guessed there was trouble swelling in him also, and 
 he held his peace and waited. In the garden-depth a black- 
 bird bugled, and a mavis poured his rich, sensuous song ; 
 
A SYMPOSIUM. 255 
 
 Cocky muttered sleepily in his beak, and the cat leaped 
 lightly after little frogs that hopped out of the long grass 
 and sat panting and staring on the gravel ; the roses hung 
 as if fainting in their own sweetness, the solemn trees ap- 
 peared to be drowsily listening to far-off sounds of chil- 
 dren's play in the village, and the light smoke rose straight 
 into the warm still air. All things suggested the repose of 
 expanded life. 
 
 " I can't stand this," said George. " Mr. Hutcheon, will 
 you join me in a bottle of burgundy ? " The Master did not 
 object on that particular occasion to refresh himself with 
 something other than his own thoughts and imaginations, 
 and the young man went in with alacrity and fetched a bottle 
 of wine of the ancient duchy. " Try that, sir," said George. 
 " It's liquid life and sunshine ; it has grown to what it is 
 with myself ; my father laid it down when I was born, and 
 first opened it when I was one-and-twenty." 
 
 The Master tasted it, said it seemed to him " a thought 
 wersh after usquebagh," but admitted he had in his life had 
 little opportunity of judging of such things. 
 
 " It would be capital stuff," said the young man, after 
 taking off a glass, " to make the wild corn grow, or the wild 
 oatmeal, that you have heard my father complain I haven't 
 sown." 
 
 "I think myself," said the Master, "you're none the 
 worse for not having sown them. Whiles ye're about it, it's 
 just as well and canny to sow a crop ye winna think shame 
 to put your sickle into." 
 
 " My father is driving me mad ! " exclaimed George. " I 
 can't stand it ! I shall have to do something desperate ! 
 . . . You know," he said, turning full to the Master, " that 
 he has taken Aimee and Elsie off to Edinburgh ? " 
 
 " I have heard he has," said Hutcheon. 
 
 " But what for ? " demanded George, and still he drank 
 the wine. " Has that occurred to you ? " 
 
 " No," answered the Master. " What for ? " 
 
 And his heart beat tumultuously, for he thought the 
 reason must concern him. 
 
 " He has taken them off just to spite me, because with 
 
256 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 Aimee not here there's no excuse for Elsie staying ; and he 
 has taken Elsie with Aimee because he wanted to get her 
 out of my way and to drive me mad with knowing he's 
 gone with them." 
 
 The Master leapt at once to the young man's point of 
 view, but he declared : 
 
 " I cannot see it with your een. No, man, I cannot think 
 your father means that altogether." 
 
 " I understand my father, Mr. Hutcheon,'' said the young 
 man with emphasis, '' and I am sure of it. Besides, we had 
 some words last night after you left. He was furious that 
 I spoke again of marrying Elsie, and wanted to know why 
 I could not be content at my age to sow my ' wild corn ' 
 like other young men. He'll drive me to drink or some- 
 thing worse — as sure as death he will ! " and again he filled 
 his glass and drank. 
 
 The Master thought that the young man was taking off 
 more than his share of the bottle, and he helped himself. 
 He put aside his own anxiety and doubt, and considered the 
 distress and doubt of the other. To all romantic natures, 
 and especially to one in love, the spectacle of a man who is 
 by way of making a fool of himself on account of a woman 
 is one to stir the bowels of compassion. 
 
 "Man," said the Master, ''dinna speak like that— there's 
 no occasion. I like ye for that ye're leal and true to a lassie 
 that a lad in your position might have ta'en a mean advan- 
 tage o' ; and I like ye for yourself, man. Now, I'm one of 
 them that thinks a man should do all for love, short of for- 
 swearing his G-od and his manhood, and I'm going to make 
 a propose to you that I would make to no other man, and to 
 you only because ye're in a pass o' desperation. In an ordi- 
 nar' case of the kind I would say, ' Mind what your father 
 says, my lad ; dinna conter him ; bide your time ; ' but in 
 your case, wi' your father inclined to the lassie in a way 
 unbecoming his years, I say, ' Follow the light o' your own 
 een and o' your own conscience ; marry your lass— she's a 
 bonny lass, and, I believe, a canny and a canty one— and 
 come awa' wi' me to the Promised Land ! ' Man, I tell it ye 
 in a secret. I have a grand expedition on hand, whilk to 
 
A SYMPOSIUM. 257 
 
 my thinking is just like leading the Lord's folk out of the 
 House o' Bondage ! " 
 
 The Master paused and finished his glass, and George 
 filled it and his own again and waited in silence, but with 
 lively attention ; and the life and sunshine, the strength of 
 the earth and the essence of light, which had been im- 
 prisoned for more than one-and-twenty years, coursed 
 through their veins and predisposed them both to the rosiest 
 view of the vision of Exodus, not through a yawning sea 
 with terror and toil, but over a sunlit, summer ocean with 
 confidence and joy. The Master set forth his plan, relating 
 fully how his purpose and its fulfilment had come to him, 
 omitting mention of the Queen's letter, but telling how the 
 ship was already found — bought that very day — and how 
 crew and passengers were being prepared. 
 
 "And that," said George, '-'is the secret mission you 
 mentioned to my father ? " 
 
 " That's just it," answered the Master. " I wrote to Her 
 Majesty for leave to go, and she most graciously granted it. 
 ' Strict secrecy and dispatch ' was her word, and I'm hoping 
 we'll be up and off in a week or two. And my propose to 
 ye is that ye marry Elsie and come too.'' 
 
 A week or two ! The nearness of so complete a change 
 in his existence made the young man pause, and made him 
 critical. Had the day of Exodus been vaguely in the future, 
 he would have looked forward to it through clouds of en- 
 thusiasm, for he was a romantic young man who dreamed 
 dreams and saw visions ; he read Tennyson, and, like the 
 ranter of Locksley Hall, he delighted in all the wonders 
 that would be, and he read Carlyle and admired " the Hero," 
 and was inclined to doubt and despise the mass from which 
 he sprang. It was doubtless a noble and heroical undertak- 
 ing which the Master had set forth, but ought it not to be 
 considered and weighed a little longer ? 
 
 " Let us have another bottle," said he, "and talk about it. 
 Shall we ? " 
 
 " Hoot, ay," answered the Master. " A bottle more or 
 less makes no differ, for though it has an agreeable twang 
 it doesna take the head like the usquebagh." 
 
258 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 So they settled down to the second bottle, and the Master 
 began to be so agreeably and insidiously affected by the old 
 burgundy that, without his being aware of it, his views were 
 heightened and his tongue was inspired with new eloquence 
 and emphasis. The young man responded in kind, and the 
 blackbird seemed to utter a more cheerful note, and the 
 mavis to trill with more flowing sympathy in the gathering 
 gloom. It grew dark, but still the talk went on. George 
 went in to bring a lamp, just that " they might see to di-ink,'' 
 and the talk was resumed with unabated gusto. For they 
 were becoming intoxicated, not more with wine than with 
 that headiness of speech which affects Scotsmen when they 
 discuss questions of conduct or abstruse matters of religion, 
 love, or politics. 
 
 And this was the manner in which their talk opened. 
 
 George Lepine shook his head in heavy doubt, and de- 
 clared that benevolent Utopias and all-loving communities 
 had been tried before and had failed ; and for his part — 
 and he shook his head again — he did not believe in the 
 worth or the gratitude of the very poor. When people were 
 miserably poor it was commonly because they deserved to 
 be so. 
 
 "Ah," said the Master, lightly tapping the table and 
 stroking it with his fingers as if it were a living thing. His 
 heart was so full of great, warm, inspired thoughts strug- 
 gling for utterance that he could for the moment say noth- 
 ing but " Ah, sirs ! " But the young man had uttered what 
 was to the Master a damnable heresy, and he must be re- 
 buked and instructed. " I'm sorry to hear ye speak like that, 
 man," said he, " for that's aye the clack o' the oppressor. 
 "But ye speak in ignorance ; " and he burst into a defence 
 of his poor — God's chosen — Christ's own people. He had 
 known the very poor of Ilkastane all his days, and he de- 
 clared before heaven that their desires and endeavours were 
 most honest and manly — "men and women and a'." They 
 were helpful with each other, patient in misfortune, content 
 with the smallest crumb of comfort ; he had never lent a 
 poor man a shilling but it had been repaid him, for all 
 that the man might be living on the starvation edge of life. 
 
A SYMPOSIUM. 259 
 
 A.nd if qualities like these were not virtues, he would like to 
 know what virtues were. 
 
 Yes, yes, George admitted these were admirable virtues 
 in the population of any country, and he believed many of 
 his poor neighbours were adorned with them ; but he had 
 found that most of them — well, they would take as much as 
 they could get for as little as they could do. " Take up 
 your wine, Mr. Hutcheon," said he, " you are letting me 
 drink it all." 
 
 The Master ignored the request, and straightened himself 
 for a higher pitch of speech. If a man contemplated only 
 mean desires and ends, everybody he looked at would nat- 
 urally seem to be moved by as mean motives as himself. 
 But — (and he raised his clenched list. George saw it ready 
 to come down like a hammer. Would it not make the 
 glasses dance ? It came down, but when it touched the 
 table its force would not have bruised a fly) — but by what 
 right do we keep hold of all the love and joy and other fine 
 things of life that we can lay hold of, and then complain 
 of these when they take the smallest easement of their bur- 
 den of poverty ? If %ce take as much as we can get for as 
 little as we can do — and do we not ? — how can we expect the 
 poor folk who look on not to do the same ? It is a sad 
 thing in life that we see only what we want to see ; and it is 
 a damnable thing that we commonly want to see only our 
 own affairs. 
 
 " By no right at all," George answered readily enough, 
 ■' except that right which has been from the beginning — the 
 right of might." 
 
 " But have not God and Religion," the Master demanded, 
 " set up a better and truer law for men ? " 
 
 " Doubtless," said George, " but it is like Religion itself 
 — oftener heard of than seen at work. The law of Nature," 
 he declared, " was the survival of the strongest and fittest ; 
 and the fittest man to carry on prosperously the game of 
 life was always — had been in all ages — the selfish man, 
 so that as the world grew older it grew more and more 
 selfish." 
 
 The "Survival of the Fittest" was a doctrine the Master 
 
260 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 had not heard of before, but it scarcely gave him pause in 
 his triumphant vindication of his folk. He surmounted 
 it thus : 
 
 "Survival here, survival there," said he. "The vrorld 
 ye speak o' is just the Devil's world o' shops and machines, 
 mills and engines, and that will be to the fore only as long 
 as the Almighty thinks it should be." And then he went 
 on in his former vein : It was a true word as ever was 
 written that the destruction of the poor is their poverty; 
 but it seemed to him that the deadliness, the sting of pov- 
 erty, might be made very much less by inoculating every- 
 body with a touch of it, as is done for the small-pox. 
 
 " That's not at all a bad idea," exclaimed the young man 
 gaily. 
 
 "Ay,' said the Master, "it's the best notion I know." 
 
 And with the fingers of one hand in the palm of the 
 other he proceeded to demonstrate that if people were 
 taught, by precept and example, that the best things, the 
 most desirable things, are not things to eat and to drink (he 
 glanced at the wine bottle) and wherewithal to be clothed 
 (he laid his fingers on the sleeve of the young man's fine 
 coat) — why, it would make a wonderful " differ to every- 
 body," and poverty would be no worse than a snell wind or 
 a pinch of frost. 
 
 But the worst had been that the poor had been coun- 
 selled and guided ( " I'm thinking," said he, " in particular 
 of our Chartists") by men who set them off routing and 
 roaring "like bairns" for "some penny whistle or tee-to- 
 tum or other trash." " Poor folk, however," he continued, 
 " are aye like bairns and need to be guided, and the person 
 to guide should be like a father in authority; and that's 
 what for," said he with simple dignity, " I'm taking the lead 
 in this business." 
 
 The young man looked at the master in silent admira- 
 tion. He had become transfigured before his eyes into a 
 Carlylean Hero. He took up the bottle ; it was empty ; and 
 he proposed, since the night was fine and sleep not to be 
 thought of, that they should take a walk and continue their 
 collogue. 
 
A SYMPOSIUM. 261 
 
 The Master assented, and they set out, talking still with 
 unabated zest. They walked by Freedom and the dark 
 wood of Maiden Craig, but they scarce knew where they 
 went. They trod on air, and their hearts burned within 
 them by the way, and they talked of all great things in 
 heaven and earth — foolishly it may be, but with continued 
 intoxicating effect. Long before their talk was done George 
 Lepine was the humble admirer and disciple of the Master, 
 and fully pledged to go to Andaman. 
 
 Above them the Great Bear had twisted round the Polar 
 Star, but still they talked — talked of the land of pure de- 
 light to which they would soon set sail. They returned to 
 Ilkastane, and walked down the loan between the sleeping 
 houses sweltering in poverty and heat; they walked past 
 Hutcheon's close and along the Burnside to the gate of 
 Corbie Ha'. But even yet they had much to say to each 
 other, and George Lepine walked back with the Master 
 into Ilkastane, and then, for company's sake, the Master 
 walked back with him ; and thus they continued to swing 
 to and fro, still talking. They heard the night-watchman 
 cry, " Twa chappet, and a fi-ine morning ! " — heard it as 
 in a dream. Soon the crow of distant cocks sounded 
 sleepy and faint, and the cool, fresh dawn crept up the sky. 
 On the turn of Burnside, where it lay open to the east, they 
 stopped. 
 
 " Look ! " said the Master. " Like the morning light the 
 day o' hope comes over the sea, like saft music — ay, and 
 like an army wi' banners — and poor weary folk are waken- 
 ing and rising up and hearkening what it maun mean ! 
 They mayna well ken what, but it goes to their hearts and 
 fills them wi' joy ! Ay, man, it's coming on like the bonny 
 daylight after the dark pit-mirk ! " 
 
 Long live Love ! Long live Hope ! Long live Illusion ! 
 They are the only real and divine things in a world of com- 
 monplace sliams ! — the only spiritual and buoyant things in 
 a life soaked and clogged with the sordid cares of money 
 and the dull deceitf ulness of respectability. But the effect 
 of Hutcheon's words was at once dashed by the sound of a 
 cough, like the clearing of the throat of a foundry bellows. 
 
262 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 They were close to O'Ehea's cottage. Feeling almost as if 
 they had been interrupted in their devotions, they turned 
 and saw.O'Rhea's great shaven face looking out of the upper 
 window, and looming through the growing light like a sin- 
 ister portent. 
 
 " Is that you, Fergus ?." said the Master politely. 
 
 " Ay, it's me," answered Fergus. 
 
 "Well," said the Master, grasping George's hand in fare- 
 well, " I maun haud away home." 
 
 "You've been doing that for a long time, haven't you ? " 
 said O'Rhea. 
 
 " Ay, Fergus, whiles," said the Master, and walked off to 
 the loan. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 ON TO THE RAPIDS. 
 
 The events of the next week or two passed like the phan- 
 tasmagoria of a dream. The necessary preparations for the 
 voyage were urged and flogged forward by O'Rhea with un- 
 ceasing vigilance and consuming energy ; and the Master 
 took part in them with an absence of mind which made him 
 lag far behind his lieutenant, and with a preoccupation that 
 left him ignorant of much that was done. For instance, he 
 knew that arms were bought — a few muskets and cutlasses 
 for purposes of defence on a long voyage, and for protection 
 on landing — but it escaped him that arms were bought 
 again and again, under various disguises, till a complete 
 arsenal was got together. Moreover, the Master, besides 
 being preoccupied with thoughts and fancies concerning the 
 bright little lady — the " bonnie lammie " — who was away in 
 distant Edinburgh, was occupied with an interest peculiar 
 to himself. For the sake of decency and order he was re- 
 solved that the unmarried men who had joined the expe- 
 dition — even the sailors who were to navigate the ship — 
 
ON TO THE RAPIDS. 263 
 
 should take unto themselves wives ; and since it was not 
 easy for every man thus to provide himself or to make his 
 choice, even in such promising and jubilant circumstances, 
 the Master took up the task of assortment. 
 
 For that and other reasons, but for that reason espe- 
 cially, it was inevitable that the excitement of the "flitting" 
 should increase and widen. The folk were of that dour and 
 mulish sort who are hard to move, but who, being moved, 
 take their head. The memory of the extraordinary ecstacy 
 which then seized the folk and spread like an epidemic 
 still lingers in Ilkastane and in the neighbouring Inver- 
 doon. It was like nothing so much as like the Revival of 
 Religion which visited the same communities some few 
 years later; and yet it was more than that. It was more 
 general and more ebullient, more lightsome and humane, 
 for it was charged only with hope. There was no relish of 
 damnation in it. 
 
 Andaman was a word to conjure with. It filled the air ; 
 it breathed warm hope into the charnel-smelling weav- 
 ing-shops ; it palpitated in the choking atmosphere of the 
 mills. Andaman, with its idle sunshine and soft delights, 
 its rest and its plenty, was in the fancies of the day and the 
 dreams of the night. It nerved the thin arm of the hungry 
 weaver, and it moved the wife at her winding-wheel to 
 song. It made the pirns snorl and the shuttles dash wildly 
 through the warp ; and it produced such flaws and fines 
 as had never before been known in Bailie Lippen's receiv- 
 ing-room. 
 
 " What the de'il's the meaning o' this ? " the exasperated 
 Tamson would cry on taking-in day. '■ Are ye a' gane daft ? 
 There's no a piece worth tippence the yard ! " 
 
 The weavers listened to him with the calm, seraphic gaze 
 of Christian martyrs. The troubling of Tamson soon would 
 cease, and there would be an end of woven " pieces " and of 
 shuttles and lays. In that mood they strove at their looms 
 morning, noon, and night to finish their webs anyhow and 
 by any means. 
 
 "I dinna want another wab,'' was the word of each one 
 when he took in his last piece. 
 
26i THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 " No want another wab ? " was the exclamation of the 
 astonished Tamson. " Sorra tak' ye ! how are ye gaun to 
 get bit and sup ?" 
 
 And the smiling answer of one after another was, " We're 
 gaun awa'." 
 
 Swiftly came this general cessation from work — the lads 
 and lasses even left the mills ; and then shuttles and caulms, 
 pirns and winding-wheels, and anon necessary wash-tubs 
 and pots and pans were sold to neighbours, or to a broker 
 from the town. "We ha'e nae use for them now. We're 
 gaun awa'." Upon that it seemed as if the whole popula- 
 tion of Ilkastane were continually in their Sabbath clothes. 
 They bought themselves gay neckerchiefs, and caps, and 
 shoes, and lavishly supplied the children with sweets. They 
 were completely idle, and completely at ease ; they laughed 
 and talked, and fell into pleasing reveries with their eyes 
 lifted and fixed, as it were, far over the sun-lit ocean. There 
 was open love-making without end. Lads and lasses strolled 
 about in groups with their arms about each other's necks, 
 sucking sweets (which they would exchange with one an- 
 other in the midst of the process) and singing the love-songs 
 of Robbie Burns ; and sometimes strings of them would 
 thus walk to the burn and pools of Freedom, or to the more 
 distant sea, to bathe, as if to have an actual foretaste of one 
 of the peculiar pleasures of the future. And the remark- 
 able thing in all this was that there was much less drinking 
 than hitherto. They seemed often filled " with new wine," 
 but it was with the wine of happiness and hope. Tears 
 often sprang in their eyes and flowed, but they dried and 
 left no trace of scalding or of grief, for they were without 
 bitterness. They were the mere superfluous distillation of 
 ecstacy. 
 
 And withal they waited for the hour of their deliverance 
 with serene patience for the miost part. Such a man as the 
 consumptive might occasionally exclaim to his neighbour : 
 
 " Eh, man, I'm thinking lang for the ship to sail ! My 
 hoast rives me to bits in the night-time, and tak's a' the 
 fousion out o' me." 
 
 But the neighbour would answer by sympathetically 
 
ON TO TEE RAPIDS. 265 
 
 grasping the consumptive's damp hand and recommending 
 liim to " cheer up," or "hold on," for "we'll be awa' in the 
 flisk o' a shuttle ! " 
 
 There was one person who was disturbed and alarmed 
 by this exalted condition of the folk, and that was O'Rhea ; 
 and he appealed to the Master, who appeared to him to aid 
 and abet it. 
 
 " I don't like it, Hutcheon," he said. " They're all just 
 as if they were drunk. There'll be a reaction presently, just 
 like next day's lieadache and low spirits, and if anything 
 should go wrong then — the Lord help us ! " 
 
 "I ha'e no doubt He will, Fergus," said the Master. 
 " But what should go wrong ? " 
 
 "A dozen things may happen to keep us from sailing 
 away — sailing away when we want to, I mean. 'Strewth, 
 sir ! Don't you see that there's one danger at least already 
 lying all round us ? The thing's too much talked about, and 
 the behaviour of the folk is queer enough to be spoken of 
 all over Inverdoon ! " 
 
 " Weel, what would ye do ? " asked the Master, with a 
 careless eye on his lieutenant. 
 
 " Man alive ! " exclaimed O'Rhea. " You have authority 
 over them. Can't you keep them from parading about 
 in their best toggery and behaving as if they were 
 drunk ? " 
 
 " Man, Fergus," said the Master, " I havena the heart to 
 do it ! The poor things are just like bairns let out o' 
 school, and am I to be the dominie with the tawse to drive 
 them in again ? No, man, the folk are behaving wonderful 
 well, in my opinion ; only push on and get the ship ready, 
 and we'll slip out b' this like a peeled ingan." 
 
 " Push on ! I've been pushing on, Hutcheon, till I am 
 dead beat ! — dead beat ! " and he buried his face with effect 
 in his great hairy hands. 
 
 " Do I no ken that, man ? " said the Master. " Come, 
 take off a drop o' this usquebagh to put spunk into ye. Do 
 I no ken how ye work at it ? Ye're worth a' the rest o' us 
 put together. But we must get through with it, Fergus, 
 man ; and then, hey for Andaman ! " 
 18 
 
266 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 "All right, Hutcheon. The shipwrights and the rest of 
 them shall work double shifts ; but it'll come expensive." 
 
 " Never mind the expense, let them push on ; and I'll be 
 down and help ye all I can." 
 
 But the presence of the Master during the preparation of 
 the ship and the getting in of stores was what O'Rhea least 
 of all desired. 
 
 " No, no, sir," said he. " There's plenty for you to look 
 after here. Leave the ship to me. I understand it, being a 
 kind of old tarry-breeks myself." 
 
 O'Rhea well knew how to appeal to the Master's trust 
 and generosity, and he went out from his presence in more 
 complete command of the enterprise than ever — a result 
 which was aided by the Master's abandonment to the pre- 
 vailing ecstacy, and to an ecstacy of his own as well. 
 
 Andaman and Aimee again interplayed in all his atten- 
 tion, all his thought and imagination, like the two sides of 
 a web when a weaver sits at his loom ; for the doubt and 
 anxiety which had seized him, on hearing of the Bailie's 
 sudden excursion to Edinburgh, had disappeared in the de- 
 light of receiving one letter, and another, and another from 
 the little lady herself — letters filled with treasures of tender- 
 ness, irresponsibility, and mischief. 
 
 Yes, Hutcheon had received two letters, and a third let- 
 ter, from the bright humming-bird, the fairy little lady. 
 With what delight he had fingered the first ! It had come 
 unasked, like the best gifts of Heaven ! How he wondered, 
 and lovingly pored over the dainty paper and the delicate 
 writing ! How he devoured every phrase and word — " My 
 dear Master " — and hurried with glee through every detail 
 of her little chronicle ! The second was like the first ; but 
 the third made him pull his beard and think — especially 
 these passages : 
 
 " Yesterday papa took us for a drive in a carriage to the 
 house of a friend in the country. It was very beautiful, and 
 I leaned back my head and shut my eyes and forgot where 
 I was. My heart filed away back over the land and the 
 water to Freedom, and I thought of you, mon ami, and of 
 
ON TO THE RAPIDS. 267 
 
 your wishing to marry me and take me away over the sea. 
 It seems very strange. I do not understand it. I feel like 
 a little bird trying to get into a room through the glass of a 
 window. I cannot. But I must tell you about a young 
 gentleman that I have met. He was at college with my 
 brother George ; and we talked about my brother and that 
 he hates the mill. He is very nice — oh, very nice indeed. 
 Well, to-night I have been to a dance and I have met him 
 again ; and again he was very nice and gracious. I liked 
 him, and we danced, danced till I was very tired. Oh, dear 
 me ! I have written this when I come home. I am so very 
 sleepy. Good-night, dear friend. Au revoir !" 
 
 The Master was rendered uneasy by that letter. Some- 
 thing began to gnaw at his heart. And yet, why should 
 not this winsome wee thing be happy in her own way ? — 
 and dance with elegant and handsome young friends of her 
 brother ? — and dance again ? — and forget for a time him and 
 Andaman, and all that he and Andaman meant for her ? 
 Why not ? But that same evening there came another mis- 
 sive from the fair young lady. It contained only four 
 flowing lines, but they burned his eyes as if they exhaled a 
 corrosive acid : 
 
 " Please do not write to me again. And I must not write. 
 Papa is very angry. But do not fear, mon ami." 
 
 He stood erect and looked through the skylight at the 
 blue overhead. The sunshine, he knew, was still warm and 
 bright without, but in the garret around him it seemed very 
 dark and chill. Yes, there were the words before him, writ- 
 ten in those clear, delicate characters by that dear, soft httle 
 hand ! Ah, cruel, soft hand ! But what did the words im- 
 ply ? Merely the Bailie's whim of command ? — or Oh, 
 
 no ! That thought was too deadly to be admitted ! It would 
 sting like an adder and shoot poison and death through 
 heart and brain ! But 
 
 " We must push on ! — push on ! " he said, gathering him- 
 self together to receive one or two visitors whom he heard 
 
268 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 on the stairs, and who had come by appointment to carry 
 out the final arrangements for several weddings on the 
 morrow. 
 
 The most notable of the couples to be joined in mat- 
 rimony was the one-eyed Commander of the Andaman 
 Native Contingent and the long-wooed daughter of Kirsty 
 Kyle. Kirsty contributed to the couple a " weary pund or 
 twa " of tocher, and the Master contributed the wedding- 
 feast, in which all the "Andamaners" were to share. 
 Already the blue silk banner of the weaver Chartists 
 (which the Master had religiously preserved) hung across 
 the loan, swinging its silver tassels and fringes and its 
 mysterious lettering over the heads of a young excited gen- 
 eration that scarcely understood these things. There was 
 prepared, also, for the night, the materials of a bonfire in 
 the middle of the square of Hutcheon's Close, to burn in the 
 merest luxury of rejoicing ; and the martial Steven had 
 himself laid in a supply of squibs and crackers and two 
 brass " hand cannon " to rend the air with astonishment and 
 joy at the proper moment ; " for," as he said to Hamish in a 
 burst of confidence, " demmit, sir, the bride o' the chief o' 
 the Native Contingent maun ha'e a salute ! " 
 
 The night was hot, and for Hutcheon the hoio^ passed 
 wearily, with fierce oppression of mind and body, in the 
 choking heat under his garret tiles, which had been baking 
 all day in the sun. Oh, for the sweet, calm joy of posses- 
 sion, and a cooling breeze on the crisp, blue sea ! 
 
 The morning came early, with a glowing sun in a brazen 
 sky, and the maddening chatter of sparrows, and the 
 Master tossing on his bed imagined how pleasant it must be 
 at that hour in Freedom, with its wet green grass, its lave- 
 rocks shooting, soaring aloft and pouring down their stream 
 of song like a benediction on the earth, and its clear, cold, 
 wimpling burn, in which one might bathe and be refreshed. 
 He dressed quietly and quickly and set out. There was no 
 one stirring in the close or in the loan. But something 
 tempted him to raise his eyes to the roof of M'Cree's house, 
 and there he saw what sent the blood in a gush to his heart. 
 The skylight was open, and Kitty M'Cree leaned out with 
 
CRISIS. 269 
 
 smiling, muttering lips and with gaze aloft as if she were 
 looking for the coming of the Lord in the air. The Master's 
 keen eye soon corrected that impression and told him tliat 
 she was truly contemplating the Chartist banner, which had 
 not been seen in public since the days when Kitty, vain 
 and sane, had followed it in the company of the Chartist 
 leaders. Kitty now looked from her window, muttering, 
 smiling, and witless ; and where were they ? — George, his 
 brother ? O'Rhea ? M'Cree ? and the rest ? 
 
 Kitty did not see him, and he passed on in the sadness 
 of reminiscence. Out on the road to Freedom he was 
 cheered by meeting the early milk and market carts bump- 
 ing and clanking into town, accompanied by strapping 
 carters and self-possessed collies. Freedom and its burn 
 soothed and refreshed him ; they washed away all the 
 doubts and dark imaginations of the night as if they had 
 never been. (" Do not fear, mon ami .' " Of course, why 
 should he fear ? It was natural that he and Andaman 
 should seem strange to the little lady ; but he was sure he 
 could trust her, and all would be well when she returned 
 and he again met her face to face.) He hummed " Ca' the 
 yowes to the knowes ! " and returned to eat his breakfast of 
 porridge with an appetite, aiid to array himself for the cere- 
 monies and festivities of the day. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 CRISIS. 
 
 The loan was very gay. For, besides the blue silk 
 banner there were hung across it many pieces of brightly 
 coloured stuffs — failing all else, a bed-quilt of patchwork or 
 a tartan shawl was not disdained. And they swung and 
 swayed gently this way and that in the hot, drowsy breeze 
 which softly came and went like the breath of a sleeping 
 
270 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 giant troubled and oppressed. And within the houses of 
 the Andamaners all was bustle of washing and dressing for 
 the great festival. 
 
 But no wedding in Ilkastane was reckoned reputable, 
 much less successful, without cabs — equipages with festive 
 caparisons — drivers in white gloves, and horses with their 
 ears in white network pockets, from which hung tickling 
 tassels that made the beasts shake their heads as if they 
 were tormented by flies. There was nowhere in particular 
 for either brides or bridegrooms or wedding guests to be 
 driven to, but yet it appeared to Steven an essential part of 
 the ceremony that there should be cabs, and somehow they 
 had been forgotten. The Master was appealed to, and he 
 commissioned the Commander of the Native Contingent 
 himself to go into the town in search of cabs. He chose 
 his young friend Hamish for lieutenant, and together they 
 set off. 
 
 The cabmen of the town were not taken with the notion 
 of visiting so unapproachable and poverty-stricken a place 
 as Ilkastane, even for a wedding ; so they all with one 
 accord began to make excuse. At length the drivers of four 
 old "shandry-dans" were found willing to go. Steven and 
 his lieutenant, suffused with delight and importance, rode 
 all the way back to Ilkastane in one of the vehicles. There 
 was, however, in the boy's delight a strain of dissatisfaction 
 — that it was impossible to ride in all four cabs at once ; and 
 in the soldier's a fermenting foreboding which at last found 
 expression. 
 
 " Demmit, Hamish ! " and he shook his head and winked 
 at the boy in disgust, " this is mean, ye ken ! — demd mean ! 
 No a glove or a lug-net among the bloomin' lot ! I'd as lief 
 be no married as no ha'e my naig and my driver in uniform ! 
 There's nae style, ye ken, and nae discipline ! And it's demd 
 unlucky ! I dinna like it, min ! " 
 
 The Master laughed at Steven's fears of ill-luck, and he 
 himself drove off in one cab to bring the minister (a '' stickit " 
 gentleman, or rather a failure, of that order, who kept a 
 small school near Freedom, had been engaged for the 
 purpose ; for the Andamaners were too little wont to seek 
 
CRISIS. 271 
 
 "the means of grace" to have the countenance to invite 
 among them a minister in regular duty, whether of the 
 Established Kirk, the Free, or the U. P.), and Steven's 
 " Send," or best man, Donald, drove off in another to bring 
 Kirsty Kyle and her daughter, while the remaining two 
 were similarly employed on behalf of other couples, a drive 
 in a cab being as necessary an adjunct as a dance of a prop- 
 erly conducted marriage. Kirsty, when taken up at her 
 door in the loan, demanded her right in full measure. 
 
 " It's no ilka day we ha'e a coach, so tak's round by the 
 Craigie Loan, man, and the Stocket Head," she said to the 
 driver. 
 
 " But we'll keep the minister waitin', gude-mither," ob- 
 jected Donald, "to tak' sic a jaunt." 
 
 " Dinna gude-mither me afore my time ! I'm gude-mither 
 to naebody yet ! And let him wait 1 " 
 
 " He's had a routh o' waitin' in's time, poor chiel ! '' said 
 the bride. 
 
 "Ay, they say he's a stickit ane. Weel, the stickit 
 anes aye bide the langest, and he can tak' this bit wait 
 in the day's darg. Standing a whilie will settle his 
 parritch." 
 
 " Weel, Janet," said Donald, smiling on the bride in 
 Steven's behalf, " s'all we gang, or no gang ? " 
 
 " Gang, for sure, Donald ! " exclaimed the dutiful daugh- 
 ter, '■ when my mither wants it ! " 
 
 "Achy, I should think sae ! " exclaimed Kirsty drily. 
 " Ca' on, man." 
 
 The Master had a great compassion for failures, howso- 
 ever they had failed. It was, alas ! not difficult to know one 
 cause at least of the minister's failure, for his red-spotted 
 countenance, his trembling lips, and his jottering hands 
 proclaimed it. He was so shaken with nerves at the pros- 
 pect of the duty he had undertaken, tliat, when they arrived 
 among the company assembled in the square of the close, 
 the Master, without a word, took him to his garret and 
 poured him out a dram of strong waters. 
 
 " Ay" said the failure, " but ye're a good man, and no a 
 Pharisee. Ye understand the weakness o' another, and ye 
 
272 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 minister to't without self-righteous pride. Oh, I ken ye 
 fine, man." 
 
 There was m.uoh solemn tittering among the young 
 couples as they were marshalled before the minister for the 
 ceremony, and a good deal of nudging ; but they were all 
 attention and silence when he prayed over them with "great 
 liberty and melting." They were no kirk-goers, but they 
 were Scottish enough to be critical of the performance ; and 
 they were agreed that he had contributed a " bonny prayer," 
 and that it was a wonder so clever a minister should be 
 "stickit." 
 
 When the ceremony was over there was an effusion of 
 hand-shaking and of tears ; and then — Bang ! Bang ! 
 Pf-z-z! Pft-t! 
 
 " Preserve's a' ! " exclaimed Eirsty Kyle. " What in the 
 warld's that ? Is't the enemy ? " 
 
 " Demmit, gude-mither 1 " exclaimed the Commander of 
 the Native Contingent, " it's the salute — the military salute ! 
 It's the beginnin' o' the campaign ! Pum-pum ! Drum and 
 file ! It'll be ' Over the mountains, over the main ! ' in a 
 wee ! Eh ! Whaur's King Jamie ? Three cheers and a 
 Hieland hooch for King Jamie." 
 
 " Nane o' that, Steven ! " said the Master, advancing with 
 a look of severity. " Ye mind the order, ' Strict secrecy and 
 dispatch.' But come awa'; the denner's ready." 
 
 Dinner was spread on tables on the " green," a drying 
 and bleaching ground in the midst of the kail-yards of the 
 inhabitants of the close ; and by stretching clothes-lines 
 from the drying poles at the foiir corners, and spreading 
 sheets over the lines, an awning had been formed. 
 
 The tables bore smoking haggis, vast ashets of kail and 
 cream, great dishes of thickened or " yirned " milk, and 
 piles of oat-cakes. Soon there were only heard the prevail- 
 ing clink of spoons and the suction of many mouths ; though 
 here and there a word sprang up in the general silence, like 
 a weed bearing witness to the richness of the soil it sprang 
 from. The Master, King Jamie of Andaman, sat at the 
 head of the chief table, and, like the King in the ballad, "he 
 looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye," and still 
 
CRISIS. 273 
 
 Andaman and Aimee interplayed in all his thoughts. He 
 looked upon his people — a hundred feeding as one — and he 
 thought, as a father of his children, why should they not 
 feed ? — why ? — and concentre for the time all their mind on 
 tlieir enjoyment ? since they had for years most patiently 
 borne the eager, gnawing pains of poverty ! Heaven be 
 thanked, that was but a foretaste of the fresh, fat things in 
 store for the hungry weaver and his family ! Soon (he 
 thought with a swelling heart) we shall all sit thus, with 
 the palm-trees waving over us ; with no malodorous gutter 
 flowing a little way off, but a fresh, sparkling rill, like that 
 which gushed when Moses smote the rock ; not shut in by 
 grim, harled houses and weaving-shops, but with flowers 
 and grass, hill and valley, sand and sea — all God's wonder- 
 ful world ! — open to the view ! And wherever his eye flitted 
 and roved in fancy, his heart was aware of a bright presence, 
 inspiring and illuminating the scene, now shining like the 
 sun, and now like a bright particular star, and again like a 
 lily in bloom in a garden ; and still as he dreamt he was 
 ever and anon subtly conscious, with a warm gush of feel- 
 ing, that this bright presence was a lovely, enchanting 
 creature of warm flesh and blood, of like feelings and pas- 
 sions with himself. 
 
 But he was brought back to what was before him by a 
 rude shock. He turned, and encountered close to him a 
 pair of eyes, earnest, large and dark, the whites of a jaun- 
 diced yellow, sunk in the sockets, and overshadowed by 
 thick black brows; the foetid breath was on his cheek, and 
 the sepulchral voice in his ear, of Hay, the tall, worn con- 
 sumptive. 
 
 " I can see ye're thinkin' o' that bonny fresh island ! I'm 
 aye thinkin' o't ! Day and night my hoast rives me to tatters, 
 and I aye put up a bit prayer that it mayna be lang afore 
 we gae 'wa' ! Man, ye mind, sir, I used to be as strong as a 
 horse ; ay, an' I'll be't again when I win oot o' this ! But 
 we'll be all in a wee, I daursay ? " 
 
 " Surely, Hay, surely. Aff in a wee, out o' this deevilish 
 warstle ! " 
 
 Dinner being finished, several were tuning their pipes 
 
274 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 for song. There were many irregular, sporadic notes, and 
 then some one began to sing the exceedingly sad farewell of 
 the Highland emigrant, "Lochaber no more." During the 
 singing of that there was much shedding of tears ; and then, 
 to add to the effect of melancholy sentiment, another singer 
 sang " The Land o' the Leal," which produced more tears. It 
 would have seemed to a casual observer that a reaction had 
 set in from the earlier gaiety ; but that would have been a 
 mistaken view, for in the Northern nature melancholy ever 
 sits hand in hand with gaiety. 
 
 " Eh, sirs," said Kirsty Kyle, wiping her eyes, " but it'll 
 be unco sair for an auld body like me to leave the auld house 
 whaur my man ance sat in the chimley-neuk, and the bit 
 kail-yard he used to delve in ! " 
 
 All who heard agreed and sympathised with her ; and 
 yet the next moment they received with laughing approval 
 the protest of Steven. 
 
 " Demmit," cried the Commander of the Native Contin- 
 gent, " let's ha'e a good auld sang about fechtin' ! " 
 
 He himself tried to raise " The Standard on the Braes o' 
 Mar," but failed ignominiously. 
 
 Then, "' Demmit ! Come, Hamish ! " he cried. " Hamish 
 is the boy ! He's a deacon at the singin' ! " Hamish in- 
 quired what he should sing, and Steven answered, "Ye 
 ken ! " 
 
 Hamish did ken. He mounted on a chair and stood an 
 instant, pale and trembling, looking round upon the com- 
 pany; and then he launched away upon his one song — 
 " See the conquering he-he-he-he-he-ro co-omes ! " 
 
 All the while the Master sat at his table, held in talk by 
 the minister. The minister was curious about everything 
 he saw and heard, and pushed inquiries concerning the 
 meaning of it. The Master answered with no more reserve 
 than mere prudence dictated, and the minister was so taken 
 with the replies and demeanour of the Master, that he was 
 for expressing a desire to go also to Andaman, when O'Ehea, 
 who had been presiding at another table, came and sat down 
 beside them. 
 
 That was the situation while Hamish was singing. When 
 
CRISIS. 275 
 
 he came to the end of his song, a strange thing happened. 
 There suddenly appeared in the full sunshine, just without 
 the improvised awning, one who had not for years been 
 seen in public, save in the most furtive, ashamed, or cat-like 
 fashion — Kitty M'Cree, Hamish's mother. The sight of the 
 familiar banner of the weavers and the sounds of rejoicing 
 had doubtless waked her memory, and she now appeared 
 with a smile on her lips, a hectic flush on her cheek, and a 
 feverish light in her eye. She was wonderfully thin, but 
 she still retained the elegance of form of which she had 
 been vain, and there was a remote quaintness in her dress, 
 and a simple pride in her bearing which arrested every eye 
 and kept everyone silent. She wore a white girlish frock of 
 very old fashion — it was short in the skirt and disclosed a 
 pair of low shoes bound with correct black braid crosswise 
 upon a high, white-stockinged instep ; and it was jimp in 
 the waist, and had leg-of-mutton sleeves. About her neck 
 was loosely cast a silk-fringed scarf — blue like the weavers' 
 banner — and on her head a large hat of Leghorn straw with 
 blue flowers. Immediately on her appearance she stepped 
 into the assembly with her mittened hands crossed before 
 her, and deliberately paced up the midst, shedding smiles 
 and bows on either hand. 
 
 She made for Hamish. He saw her approach, with her 
 glittering eye on him, and the terror which he had so often 
 felt on the stair-head, when he had seen her sitting in a haze 
 of flaxen dust, and making her wheel madly whirl while she 
 madly muttered and smiled — that terror held him glued to 
 his station on the chair. She stood by his side and took his 
 unresisting hand, like a patroness. 
 
 " Ye're a bonny laddie, and ye sing gey bonnily," she 
 said. " What do they ca' ye ? " 
 
 " E — eh ! " There was a universal sound of astonishment 
 and pain, like a sudden sough of wind among fir-trees. " She 
 doesna ken him ! " was whispered. 
 
 " Hamish M'Cree," answered the boy somewhat sulkily. 
 
 He did not like his perch, and the somid of her voice 
 having broken the spell she had upon him, he descended to 
 the ground without ceremony. But she still held his hand. 
 
276 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 " M'Cree ? " she murmured in slow iiiquirj-, adapted to 
 the comprehension of youth. " But my name's M'Cree ! " 
 
 "It's your ain loon, Kitty !" someone had the hardihood 
 to cry. 
 
 She looked round calmly, but her eye dwelt upon no one 
 in particular. 
 
 " Ye're wrang, good folk," she said, bowing. " I ha'e nae 
 bairn. I'm no married, ye ken. I ha'e a lad," she continued 
 in a manner of meditation, as if labouring in memory, " a 
 bonny lad — a grand, big, buirdly man ' — the company looked 
 in doubtful inquiry at each other, for all knew the common 
 story of her connection with the Master's brother — "but," 
 she continued with a swelling sigh, " he's gane awa' ! " No 
 one spoke, and she addressed herself again to Hamish. 
 " You and me," she said, " maun gang up and mak' our bow 
 to the President." 
 
 She paced up to the table where the Master sat with the 
 minister on one side and O'Rhea on the other. She seemed 
 on the point of recognising and addressing Hutcheon, when 
 the great red hairy scarred hand of O'Ehea (who sat with 
 sharply averted head, but with hand and arm flung on the 
 table) caught her shifting gaze. She stared at it an instant, 
 and the Master was drawn into staring also ; and then she 
 softly took the hand in her own and stroked it. Upon that 
 O'Rhea turned involuntarily with an ugly, angry face. He 
 said no word, but he caught Kitty's eye, and tried desper- 
 ately to frown her off. She withered somewhat under his 
 gaze, but she would not let him go ; and he doubtless feared, 
 or scorned, to withdraw his hand roughly. 
 
 '• Fergus ! " she murmured, as if in a dream. " It is Fergus 
 —is it no ? " 
 
 "Ay, it's Fergus," answered the Master. 
 
 The sound of the Master's voice seemed to disconcert her ; 
 but Fergus would not speak. 
 
 " But he's gane awa' ! " she murmured. " Ay, I mind. I 
 was to gae wi' him, but he never cam' for me ! — never ! — 
 never ! " 
 
 There was silence, while it seemed as if she would weep 
 — she who had not wept, it was said, since that awful night 
 
CRISIS. 277 
 
 on wMch the Chartist leaders fled. Absently and uncer- 
 tainly she laid her hand on Hamish's head, and that drew 
 the Master's attention anew to the boy's hair. From the 
 boy's head he glanced at O'Rhea's, and then, like the strik- 
 ing of sparks, the whole truth came to him, and seemed so 
 plain that he was amazed it had not come to him before. 
 
 Just then the fiddler began to screw up his instrument 
 — ^'prut-truf — and Kitty turned away with brisk ear. 
 O'Rhea's eyes, disengaged from her, swung round upon the 
 Master. He met a gaze direct, cold, and terrible, that did 
 not waver or blench, and he knew that the secret he had 
 successfully kept shut so long was now laid open. 
 
 " Keep hold o' her hand, Hamish,'' said the Master, giving 
 a glance to the boy. " And now, Fergus, you and me'll ha'e 
 a word. Come wi' me." 
 
 " All right, Hutcheon," said O'Rhea, and you could not 
 have guessed from his voice if he cared a jot. 
 
 The Master rose from his seat, and the minister rose too, 
 as well as O'Rhea, as if to accompany them. The fiddle 
 uttered its preliminary squawk. 
 
 " Now, bairns," said the Master, as he passed among the 
 young people fldging for the dance, and pointing their toes, 
 " at it wi' a will ! " 
 
 He stood an instant, seeming neither severe nor discom- 
 posed, so that O'Rhea did not know how to augur of the tone 
 lie might assume when they were alone. 
 
 "You have not, sir," said the minister, smiling, "the 
 prejudice of the unco guid against dancing ? " 
 
 ■' No," said the Master simply, " I havena. And it's well 
 thought on— just bide ye here ; I may ha'e need o' ye." 
 
 And O'Rhea, as he walked off with the Master, wondered 
 what that saying might mean. 
 
278 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 CHAPTEK XXXIII. 
 
 A STRANGE MARRIAGE. 
 
 The Master marched on in silence to his garret, and 
 O'Rhea followed. As if to break the monotony of his 
 progress, and to assure himself he was at his ease, the latter 
 lingered an instant before he left the close to spit, and to 
 stroke a cat that came in his way. The Master took up his 
 favourite station with his back to the fire (the lire was even 
 then alive with a slumbering lump of peat), and O'Ehea sat 
 down under the skylight by the carpenter's bench, and took 
 up a chisel and felt its edge with his thumb. 
 
 "Am I right," asked the Master, "in my thought that it's 
 you was Kitty's sweetheart, and no my brother ? " 
 
 " Well, Hutcheon," answered Fergus with a snigger, 
 "we were both, you know, 'wooin' at her, pu'in at her,' to 
 use the words of your Scotch song.'' 
 
 " Tut ! " exclaimed the Master. " Gi'e me a plain answer ; 
 ye ken what I mean. Ye're the father o' the loon Hamisli, 
 are ye no ? " 
 
 " I suppose I am ; he looks like it." 
 
 " He's the image o' ye ; and I wonder now I didna see't 
 before." 
 
 "Look here, Hutcheon," said O'Rhea, laying down the 
 chisel, and attempting to turn the Master's flank by a frank 
 confession, " I admit there is every reason to believe I am 
 the boy's father. What then ? I meant the girl no harm. 
 It's done, and it can't be undone." 
 
 " Ay, it's done, but it's not done wi'." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Man, Fergus, I wonder at ye. I aye kenned ye were 
 no a gentleman, but I did no think ye were a blackguard ! 
 Bide still ! Sit down ! " There was that in the Master's 
 eye which had to be obeyed. " Ye not only had your will o' 
 the lassie, but ye left her in her trouble, no carin', and with- 
 out a word ! More than that, all the weeks sin' ye've been 
 back here ye've never opened your mouth to me about it, 
 
A STRANGE MARRIAGE. 279 
 
 nor sought to set eye on her, though ye well kenned I was 
 blaming my brither all the while, and had a grudge against 
 him because I thought he had forgotten he was a gentle- 
 man ! And even now, at this long last, yeVe no a word to 
 say but ' it's done, and can't be undone.' And so ye shift 
 the thing ofp on God Almighty to do what He can on the 
 Day o' Judgment." 
 
 O'Rhea glowered in a very ugly temper, but he kept com- 
 mand of himself. He was clearly resolved to endure a great 
 deal rather than endanger his hold of the arrangements foj- 
 Andaman. His hope was in retreat. He rose. 
 
 "All right, Hutcheon,'' said he, with a reckless smile. 
 " If God Almighty can wait till then, so can ye. I'll an- 
 swer you then both together ; " and he was about to go. 
 
 "Bide a wee, Fergus," said the Master. "I havena the 
 patience o' the Almighty ; and, moreover, I'm here to do 
 some o' His business among the folk He has set me ower ! " 
 
 " Say on, say on," said the other with a laugh, flinging 
 himself down again by the table, but he did not tempt the 
 Master from his serious and lofty position. 
 
 " I was hoping, Fergus," said the Master, " that you'd say 
 you'd do it of your own self." 
 
 O'Rhea looked genuinely puzzled. 
 
 " Man I " exclaimed the Master, " are ye so lost to the 
 sense o' things that ye mean to say ye havena thought o't ? " 
 
 " Don't know what you mean, Hutcheon.'' 
 
 " Ye must marry Kitty M'Cree." 
 
 O'Rhea, who was making elaborate pretence of indiffer- 
 ence by scrawling imaginary characters on the table with 
 his finger-tip, looked with amazement shining in his eye, 
 and dropping from his scornful, sensual nether lip. 
 
 " 'Pon my word ! You're coming it strong ! You're 
 putting your foot down like God Almighty Himself ! It's 
 too much of a joke, though ! " and he viciously rubbed 
 his cheek and rumpled his obstinate hair, and laughed. 
 " Strewth ! Marry Kitty ! Poor Kitty ! She was tempting 
 once ! " And a leering look of tenderness came over his 
 continent of face. " But you forget, Hutcheon ! you forget, 
 my friend, that she's as mad as a hatter ! " 
 
280 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 " She's as ye made her," answered the Master, bating not 
 a jot his cold, calm severity of eye and manner. "She's 
 your handiwark ! " 
 
 "Do you mean it, Hutcheon ? " demanded O'Rhea, waver- 
 ing on the line between fear and defiance. 
 
 " I mean it, as sure as death ! " answered the Master still 
 quietly. 
 
 " Then,'' said the other, rising and giving way to the tur- 
 bulent resentment boiling and foaming in him, "I'll be 
 d — d if I do ! — and I'll see you d — d, and her d — d too ! " 
 and he beat his great fist on the table with every word of 
 emphasis. 
 
 The Master moved his hand as if to wave off the odour 
 of foul reek. 
 
 " Ye'U think better o't, Fergus," said he, " or you and me 
 maun part." 
 
 "Really," said O'Ehea, glancing at the Master as if in 
 discovery, " we must have all gone mad together ! But no, 
 no, no ! I'm sane, at least ! 'Pon my word, Hutcheon, I 
 must say to you as somebody says in the Bible, 'Is thy 
 servant a dog that he should do this thing ? ' Is he a mad 
 dog, sir, that he should marry this mad b — woman ? " 
 
 "As I ha'e said already, Fergus, clash o' her daftness 
 comes ill frae your mouth. Daft though she be, ye owe a 
 duty to her and to the loon Hamish ; ye owe it to baith to 
 gi'e them your name, for the laddie's sake, if for no other.* 
 Ay, and ye owe it to the good name o' my brither, and so 
 my hinmost word is : Marry Kitty, or cut your stick ; 
 ha'e no more word to say to me or mine, and ha'e done both 
 wi' Ilkastane and Andaman and wi' all that concerns them. 
 I've said my say." 
 
 O'Rhea at length felt in his soul the force of that un- 
 bending severity. He drew himself together ; with quick- 
 winking eye and scratching finger he turned this way and 
 that in thought. The hand of the Master was heavy on him 
 and would not let him go. To lose what "Andaman" 
 
 * According to Scots law, a bastard child is legitimised if its parents 
 marry at any time. 
 
A STRANGE MARRIAGE, 281 
 
 meant for him, after all his toil ! — no, not if he had to 
 marry a thousand mad women ! His daring and adroit- 
 ness of understanding did not forsake him. In a flash of 
 thought he saw as in a glass what he would do — yes, and 
 gain his end more completely and vengefuUy than he had 
 intended. He yielded with a kind of ohscene glee, and yet 
 remained true to his great, plausible self. He expressed 
 himself with such a bravura of good feeling and generosity 
 that the Master thought hardly less of him than before. 
 
 " Ah, there you have me, Hutcheon. It would break my 
 heart to be cut off now from you and Andaman ; but yet it's 
 not that that makes me say, ' I'll do it' You do right to 
 remind me of George — right, Hutcheon, as ever — for can I 
 ever forget that we were like brothers together, and how I 
 shared the bounty you scraped together to get him off with ! 
 So, Hutcheon, what I would do for no threat or compulsion 
 whatsoever, I'll do for George's sake, since you wish to have 
 it so ; yes, and for the boy's sake, whom you have treated 
 like a son. That I can never forget, Hutcheon — never ! so 
 help me God ! — and so I'll marry Kitty." 
 
 He rose and offered Hutcheon his hand. A tear of 
 genuine emotion was in his eye, and the Master could not 
 forbear to give him the clasp of reconciliation ; for surely, 
 he thought, never was there a creature of better feeling than 
 O'Rhea — wayward, blusterous, and even rebellious, but 
 truly docile, faithful and honest as the day — a man whom 
 it was as good to know as to feel the stress of Scottish 
 weather. 
 
 " And ye'U marry her now afore all the folk ? " said the 
 Master. 
 
 'Rhea's only answer was a tighter grip of the hand ; 
 for there was a new pang of rage and mortification in his 
 heart which would not let him speak. 
 
 They marched forth into the sunlight again, and on to 
 the green under the awning, whence were borne to them 
 the untiring music of the blind fiddler, the fiercer snap of 
 the fingers, and the wild " hooch ! " of the Scottish dance. 
 The Master pushed his way among the swirling, laughing 
 throng until he reached the fiddler's side. 
 19 
 
282 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 " Whenever ye're through wi' this spring, Willie," said 
 he, " haud a wee." 
 
 He stood and observed the dance (O'Rhea being at his 
 elbow), and heard without emotion now the prance and 
 bounce of feet and the swish of petticoats, the crack of 
 thumbs, and the frenzied " hooch ! " When the dance was 
 ended, he held up his hand, and his eye sought out Kitty 
 M'Cree and the minister. 
 
 " Lads and lasses," said he, " rest ye a wee, and tak' your 
 breath — I've something to say." The lassies fell back with 
 their partners, with heaving bosoms and sparkling eyes, 
 smoothing their hair and patting their gowns. "We're 
 gaun to ha'e another marriage, and syne ye can loup awa' 
 wi' another reel o' TuUochgorum. Ay, another marriage, 
 like a dessert after meat, though ye may laugh, ye limmers 1 
 And there's no ane o' ye can guess the bride ! Hamish," he 
 called, "bring your mother here — ay, bring Kitty M'Cree, 
 my man.'' 
 
 There was a hum of amazement. 
 
 " E-eh, guidsakes ! Wha would ha' thought it ! " as 
 Kitty paced forward, led by her son. 
 
 " Ay, it's a world's wonder," continued the Master, " but 
 the long and the short o't is that our auld friend, Fergus 
 O'Rhea, thinks it weel at this identical time to stan' up 
 afore ye all to mak' her, that was ance his sweetheart, his 
 wife, and to confess the laddie Hamish his son ! " 
 
 Again there was a subdued chorus of " E-eh ! " 
 
 " Saunders M'Cree," called the Master, " step up here and 
 do your duty." 
 
 M'Cree pressed forward, from where he stood behind the 
 dancers, red with excitement. Arrived at the front of the 
 throng he stopped. 
 
 " Bu-h-h ! " he began. " Am I to understand, sir " 
 
 But he was interrupted by Kirsty Kyle, who said, loud 
 enough for all to hear : 
 
 " Haud your whisht, ye weary auld randy ! Gang up 
 and do as ye're bid ! Is the Hutcheon to be ca'd in question 
 like an orra tinkler ? " 
 
 At that there was loud laughter, and urged forward by 
 
A STRANGE MARRIAGE. 283 
 
 many ready hands, M'Cree reached the Master's side. Then 
 was arranged the strangely-assorted wedding party. Kitty, 
 smiling with crazy but wistful gaze, Hamish with eyes and 
 mouth agape with wonder, M'Cree silent but pompous iu 
 his imagined rdle of a stern, sacriflcatory Roman father, 
 and O'Rhea with his set, savage sneer. The marriage and 
 its circumstances were strange enough, but they seemed to 
 make little impression on the on-lookers ; and for that there 
 was reason, seeing that, with an ever-present marvel like 
 the " flitting " to think of, there could be no room in their 
 minds for the entertainment of lesser wonders. The cere- 
 mony was performed, and the nei-vous minister prayed, but 
 not with such " liberty and melting " as before, for he 
 scarcely understood the situation, and the eye of O'Rhea 
 constrained him. 
 
 " By your leave, Hutcheon," said O'Rhea, when the cere- 
 mony was concluded, " I'll go and get my shanty ready for 
 the home-coming of my wife ; for what is good enough for 
 an old wanderer and tarry-breeks like myself will hardly 
 suit a delicate creature like Kitty." 
 
 There was a suspicion of sarcasm in his tone which made 
 the Master consider him. 
 
 " But," said he, " ye'll lead off a spring wi' her first, will 
 ye no ? " 
 
 O'Rhea yielded in silence. The reel of Tullochgorum 
 was struck up, and he led off the dance with Kitty ; but 
 presently he and his partner dropped out, and then he dis- 
 appeared alone. 
 
 The Master sat down again, content with what he had 
 done. But why had he done it ? He would have failed to 
 give a categorical reason, for marriage was of small ad- 
 vantage now to Kitty; and still he had a vague, flitting 
 hope that it might be the means of her recovery. And 
 then there was the remoter consideration of his dead broth- 
 er's reputation. Yet, in truth, he had compelled O'Rhea 
 out of obstinate, chivalric, masterful impulse. He had an 
 all-pervading kindness and tenderness for women, all the 
 warmer and more potent now that he was in love, and a 
 lofty hatred and fierce impatience of all the male tricks 
 
284 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 for overcoming female shyness and reluctance; and it 
 gave him an acute and strengthening delight to check- 
 mate a betrayer, even at the eleventh hour to take him 
 by the ear and lead him up to his duty. So he content- 
 edly sat, and conversed with the minister, and ended by 
 maldng of him also a proselyte and a pilgrim to Andaman. 
 
 Still the sounds of the fiddle and the dance went on. 
 The sun wore in the west, and the whole company sat 
 down to eat and drink tea, and again rose up to play. 
 Far away over the kail-yards of Ilkastane and the low 
 region that lay between it and Inverdoon, the spires and 
 steeples of the city stood up and caught the sunlight, and 
 their vanes and weathercocks flashed like burnished gold ; 
 and farther away — far, far away — in a mirage of the imagi- 
 nation were the blue sea and the palm-trees and the ban- 
 yans of Andaman. 
 
 The evening came, and with it suddenly appeared George 
 Lepine, just when they were lighting the bonfire in the 
 square of the close. 
 
 "My father has come back," he said at once to the 
 Master. 
 
 The Master looked at him closely ; there was something 
 hard in his tone, and iu the expression of his face and his 
 open roving eye, which suggested that all was not well. 
 
 " He is ? " said Hutcheon. " And nobody besides ? " 
 
 "Nobody else," answered the young man. "Nor has 
 he a word to say about anybody else. And, to tell you 
 the truth, I think he doesn't mean to bring anybody else 
 back." 
 
 " What ! not at all ? Ye dinna mean that ! " 
 
 " I mean," said the other, " not for a long while — not till 
 it may be too late ! " 
 
 " Well," said the Master, " I must ha'e a word with him." 
 
 " The sooner the better," said G-eorge. 
 
 They looked at each other. The Master settled his bon- 
 net on his head, and they set off. 
 
A PLOT. 285 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 A PLOT. 
 
 The Bailie had returned home, and for some reason he 
 paced restlessly in his garden after his dinner, instead of 
 sitting still, as was his wont, and patiently permitting diges- 
 tion to have her perfect work. It may be that he had a 
 suspicion the Master of Hutcheon would not like his return- 
 ing from the South alone, and that his imagination of the 
 Master's eye and nose, when they should look each other in 
 the face, disturbed him. They met sooner than the Bailie 
 had expected. While he was pacing that path by the little 
 summer-house, where O'Rhea had addressed him from the 
 wall, Jaques came to him and said that le Maitre <T Hutcheon 
 had just appeared with M'sieu George, and had asked for 
 Wsieu le Bailli. 
 
 " I will come,'' said the Bailie, taking his hands from his 
 pockets and making a step towards the house. Then, be- 
 thinking himself of something, " Non, non ! Pardieu, let 
 him come ! Oui, here let him come ! " 
 
 Jaques went, and the Master came, followed by George 
 Lepine. The Master loomed, perhaps, larger than ever in 
 the gloom, but his nose and eye were in less dominant evi- 
 dence, and so the Bailie, doubtless, felt an unusual boldness 
 before him. 
 
 " Ah, M'sieu le Maitre,"" was his light greeting, and then, 
 " is it my rascal behind you ? For what hide you, sir, be- 
 hind the gros Mister Hutcheon ? " 
 
 " I am not hiding, father,'' protested the young man. 
 " The Master is a person of more consequence than I am, 
 and so he came first. That's all ; " and with that he came 
 forward and ranged himself alongside the Master. 
 
 " Do not me contradict, sir ! " exclaimed the Bailie in a 
 raised voice. " You cache you ! You skulk ! It please you 
 to go against your father ! — to disobey ! But you will not, 
 entendez-vous ! — you will not ! " 
 
 The Master's slow, calm voice broke in : 
 
286 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 " Ye're braw and cool here, Bailie. It's a bonny neuk, 
 and should soothe the mind o' a man." 
 
 " Yes," said the Bailie, " it is cool ; it is dark ; but the 
 dark make one think many things." 
 
 " It's well said, Bailie. And, among your many think- 
 ings, have ye thought o' the needcessity o' dispatch in this 
 wedding o' mine ? All things are now about ready — so 
 near ready that I may say I'm but waiting for my wife to 
 set out." 
 
 " Ah, oui — oui, ni'sieu,''" said the Bailie. " I have thought, 
 sir — and I think, me, that it is better you wait for the return 
 from the mission of la haute politique — much better." 
 
 " But that's a gey change in your say. Bailie ! Your last 
 word to me was that the marriage should come off afore I 
 set out." 
 
 " But I think, sir— I think after then ; and I hear that 
 you go far away, and that it can be you do not come again 
 — never. You have never tell me nothing — nothing ! — but 
 I hear. The word is in the town, sir." 
 
 The Master was silent an instant. He perceived he was 
 at a critical turn. 
 
 " Let us understand ane another once for all. Bailie. I 
 told ye as much about the business as I thought Her Majes- 
 ty's orders allowed me to tell, and your word was, ' If my 
 daughter is willing, I am willing.' Your daughter. Bailie, 
 knows the whole heart. o' the business, and she is willing — 
 or was. Bailie." 
 
 The Bailie was uneasy. The Master's direct, forcible 
 tone struck alarm on his ear, and his imagination of the 
 dominating eye and nose thrilled his nerves. 
 
 " I am father, sir," said he. 
 
 " Hoots ! " said the Master. " Ye needna tell me that ! " 
 
 " And I think of the good of my daughter," added the 
 Bailie. 
 
 "Well, Bailie, sin' she and me plighted troth I'm for 
 reckoning myself her man — her husband. It's the way o' 
 our folk, as I daursay ye know. Bailie. And so I put it to 
 ye— where is she that should be my wife ? " 
 
 "She is not here, sir," was all the Bailie's answer. 
 
A PLOT. 287 
 
 " Guidsakes, man ! Am I no to be trusted ? " exclaimed 
 the Master. " Ye're no dealing fairly and openly with me, 
 Bailie ! I'm telling ye, man, that I'm thinking more o' the 
 real welfare and happiness o' the lassie than ye are ; for I 
 doubt ye're blind to all that's no afore your een I She's 
 dearer to me than my own soul ! She's the apple o' my e'e. 
 And, though we have plighted troth, what I say now is, 
 'Let her stand afore me and make her choice again.' If she 
 says to me afore you, ' No, I'd rather not marry and go far 
 away with ye to yon place ' " 
 
 " What place ? " exclaimed the Bailie sharply. " What 
 is ' yon place ' ? " 
 
 "It is the place," answered the Master, with a paren- 
 thetic wave of the hand, "where we are going to. If 
 she says that, then I will ha'e done. I'll go my ways 
 my lone. But, Bailie, I will ha'e her answer from her own 
 mouth 1 " 
 
 Before the Bailie could reply to that, a glowing light ap- 
 peared hurrying towards them ; and the Bailie waited, say- 
 ing, " Who is this ? " It was Jaques, bearing a lamp. He 
 went directly to the Bailie and put a scrap of paper in his 
 hand. 
 
 "Pardon!" said the Bailie, glancing from it to the 
 Master. 
 
 Jaques held the li^ht handy, and the Bailie read to him- 
 self with amazement : 
 
 " Excuse me. Bailie. I have heard your talk over the 
 wall. I have an idea^ Come and speak to me for a mo- 
 ment before you make Mr. H. any answer. 
 
 "YouK Friend over the Wall." 
 
 "Where ? " demanded the Bailie at once of Jaques. 
 
 " Salle-a-manger," said Jaques. 
 
 "Excuse me a moment," said the Bailie to the Master. 
 "Jaques; put the lamp there;" and Jaques put the lamp 
 on the little table of the summer-house, and followed his 
 master. 
 
 " Well," said the Bailie impatiently, as soon as he caught 
 
288 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 sight of O'Rhea standing in the dining-room. " What is it ? 
 What is it? Heinf" 
 
 O'Rhea's immediate answer was to pass swiftly to the 
 door and close it. 
 
 " Phoo ! " said he, blowing and mopping his great red 
 face with his large red handkerchief. "I'm all of a sweat 
 with tearing in ! When the point you were discussing with 
 Mr. Hutcheon, Bailie, caught my ear — caught my ear like a 
 fish-hook, sir — it fairly dragged me in here ; for, thinks I, 
 now's the nick of time to requite the Bailie for all his kind- 
 ness ! " 
 
 " Well, sir, what ? " demanded the Bailie. " Vite !— 
 vite ! " 
 
 " Certainly, Bailie. And we need not waste time with 
 explanation. I understand perfectly your point of view. 
 You don't want to quarrel with the Master of Hutcheon, 
 and yet you don't wish to let him have his way in marry- 
 ing your daughter at once and carrying her off, you 
 don't know where, into dangers you can't guess. Is 
 that so ? " 
 
 " That is so." 
 
 " Right. You don't mind bringing your daughter home, 
 and letting her meet the Master, if no harm comes of it. Is 
 that so ? " 
 
 "That is so." 
 
 " Right again. Now I'm here to show you, Bailie, if you 
 will accept my suggestion, how no harm need come of it. 
 How shall I put it to you ? " He posed himself, with his 
 eye fiercely bent on a dark corner of the room, and the end 
 of his forefinger between his teeth. " This is it. There is 
 absolutely no need for the Master of Hutcheon to go on 
 this expedition " 
 
 " What ? " cried the Bailie. " Is he not appoint by the 
 Queen ? No ? " 
 
 "You'll understand about that presently," said O'Rhea, 
 with a smile and a weighty wag of the head. " The Master 
 is an excellent, loyal creature, but he is a visionary ; he has 
 his head in the clouds ; he is not fit to deal with the ordinary 
 afi'airs of life, as you know." 
 
A PLOT. 289 
 
 " I know, me ! " said the Bailie, nodding his head and 
 pursing his mouth. 
 
 " Well, Bailie, the truth is, he is the ornamental head of 
 this expedition, but the real working head is your humble 
 servant.'' 
 
 " Ah," said the Bailie, with a cunning look of suspicion 
 and enlightenment, " is that so ? " 
 
 "And the truth again is, it will be better both for you 
 and for me if he does not go ; better for you, because you 
 will still have the chance of a noble son-in-law with twenty 
 thousand pounds and no expensive tastes ; and better for 
 me, because, on this dangerous expedition, he would in 
 reality be only a skinful of trouble. So this is my sugges- 
 tion. Bailie," and he emphasised it with two scarred fingers 
 in his palm, and with gathered brow : " let him and your 
 son go together to Edinburgh to bring your daughter home, 
 and while they're away I'll clear off bag and baggage." 
 " But, mais, will he not follow ? Hein f " 
 " He can't, Bailie ! he can't," cried the other, making his 
 last desperate move, and fiercely rapping his fingers in his 
 palm. "And why? Because I've had all the prepara- 
 tions in my hands, and only me. Bailie— only me !— knows 
 where the expedition is bound for ! " 
 
 "Ah, good !— good !— good ! It is very good ! " said the 
 Bailie with emphasis. But there was a spark of suspicion 
 in his eye. He advanced a step and laid a confidential 
 hand on O'Ehea's arm. " I will do it, what you say. You 
 are very clever to think of it, mon Mirabeau; huir-enten- 
 dez-vous!— if you go not away clear, if you make not what 
 you call clean heels, and the Master catch you, then I know 
 nothing— entendez-vous .'—it is your affair.' 
 
 "Certainly, Bailie, certainly. Don't you fear. The 
 Master is not the Great Mogul ; and I'm quite able to take 
 care of myself." 
 
 "Then I return," said the Bailie, "to my gentleman. I 
 am obliged, sir," he added with a duck of his head, and a 
 touch of recoil from the gross, heated presence of O'Rhea, 
 as if he bethought him that it was unbecoming in a town's 
 dignitary to be so familiarly associated with such a man. 
 
290 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 O'Ehea noted the action, and was shrewd enough to 
 understand it. With a scornful leer he said : 
 
 " And so, Bailie, we are quits. I am a man that never 
 forgets a favour till it's repaid. So we're quits, I say. For 
 now you go your way, and I go mine." 
 
 The Bailie nodded, and nodded, and nodded again, but 
 said no word ; he scarcely understood the large, effusive, 
 generous and crafty person before him. With a laugh and 
 a leer O'Ehea went off, and the Bailie returned to the dark 
 walk at the end of the garden. 
 
 While he was yet a good way off he noted the Master 
 and his son sitting together in the summer-house vdth the 
 lamp between them. He saw the Master put his hand 
 kindly on George's shoulder, and he was pleased — he scarce 
 knew why — that they should be on such friendly terms. 
 He thought cheerfully that if the Master could be kept 
 from going away on this mysterious expedition it might be 
 very pleasant for all of them. As he approached nearer, 
 George exclaimed, loud enough for his father to hear, " No, 
 no ! Don't speak of it now ! Please don't ! " There was 
 evident anxiety in his tone, and his father, with a pang of 
 suspicion, surmised that their talk then must have con- 
 cerned Elsie M'Oree. But he was still resolved to appear 
 cheerful. 
 
 "Well," said he, without offering an explanation of his 
 absence, "I return. I am sorry to have keep you waiting, 
 M'sieu le Maitre — and I am not sorry all the same, because 
 going away has made me think of something to please 
 you." 
 
 " I am glad o' that," said the Master simply. 
 
 " Yes ; I think of what you say, and I agree that Aimee 
 come home and answer for herself. But me, I cannot go 
 to bring her, because I have just come. I have not see the 
 mill for long time, you know, and my rascal there, he, per- 
 haps, make six or seven of everything. Well, me I cannot 
 go, but go you and bring her, and take my rascal with you. 
 Will that you please ? You go to-morrow and come the 
 next day, hei7i f " 
 
 The Master appeared like a boy in prospect of his first 
 
THE PLOT THICKENS. 291 
 
 jaunt. He blushed with delight, and rose and said very 
 graciously to the Bailie : 
 
 " It's very kind in ye, Bailie, to think o' that way. Ay, 
 I'll go 1— I should just think I will ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 THE PLOT THICKENS. 
 
 Fergus O'Rhka returned to his shanty laughing, and 
 gleefully rubbing the knuckles of one hand in the palm of 
 the other as if he would beget Are by friction. 
 
 " ' The Lord hath delivered him into my hands ! ' " he 
 said to himself again and again ; for O'Ehea could quote 
 Scripture like Satan himself — ay, and find as much solace 
 and satisfaction in the turn of a text as could any saint. 
 
 And now, note a strange thing he did when he had 
 entered his shanty. The building really consisted of two 
 " tenements," both on the ground floor, with a flagged pas- 
 sage between. It was an old, a very old, building, and 
 probably had been in the past part of the domestic offices of 
 Corbie Ha'. The passage was closed by a stout door at 
 either end — the front door and the back. The candle he 
 had left burning when he had run in to the Bailie's shone 
 out through the open side-door, so that its light streamed 
 slantwise into the passage and showed up, as he entered, a 
 peculiar stain, like a bleeding heart, on the back door. He 
 seized a candle (which was stuck in a black bottle) and went 
 close and perused the stain. It seemed to be merely an old 
 splash of red paint ; but with a laugh and an oath he smote 
 his hand on it, and then passing quickly into his living- 
 room he took a bit of chalk and a long sheath-knife in his 
 hand and returned to the door. Thereon he rudely scrawled 
 the outline of a tall male figure, inclosing the bleeding 
 heart on the left and close by, dabbing on two buttons in a 
 
292 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 line across, and on the featureless head drawing a broad bon- 
 net. It was clear he meant to represent the back of a man. 
 He stood back and surveyed his handiwork with a gleeful 
 snigger ; and then a sudden thought took him, and, with a 
 roll of te-heeing, he stepped forward, rubbed out the broad 
 bonnet and drew a crown in its place. That done, he set 
 the candle on the floor, retreated a yard or two, and began 
 throwing his knife with such dexterity and precision of aim 
 that it never failed to pierce the bleeding heart. His exer- 
 cise afforded him great satisfaction, for there was more of 
 the savage than of the civilised man in him. So much was 
 this so, that with his exertion he wrought himself to a 
 notable pitch of excitement, and flung the knife with more 
 and more fury and force, till the blade vibrated and 
 hummed as it pierced the wood deeper and deeper. And at 
 each cast he cried aloud : 
 
 ''A-ha ! That's for you, you beggar ! A-ha ! How do 
 you like that ? You'd master me, would you ? I master 
 you ! A-ha ! A king are you ? Oh, my stars and garters ! 
 A king ! A-ha ! A king of my making ! A bl — d serious 
 fool of a king ! A penny plain, twopence coloured king ! 
 A-ha ! Fergus, you've got him ! — the ass I — the pretender ! 
 — the usurper ! Finish him '. End him ! Why don't you 
 end him — the long Scotch beggar ! — the swine ! " 
 
 And still, as he continued his violent exertion, the spoken 
 words became more and more of a chant, like that of a 
 savage drunk with blood. At length, pretty well exhausted, 
 he stayed his hand. He mopped his face, which was pour- 
 ing with sweat, and then, as if taken with the humour of his 
 conduct, he leaned against the wall and laughed at himself. 
 " Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! " 
 
 But a glance towards the other end of the passage showed 
 him that the front door was open and that two persons — a 
 woman and a boy — were standing just within it. How 
 long had they been there ? With an oath he took the 
 candle from the floor, and advanced roaring : 
 
 " Who the devil are you ? " 
 
 The boy dashed whimpering behind the woman, who 
 stood still to receive O'Ehea's threatening advance. In an 
 
THE PLOT THICKEXS. 293 
 
 instant he recognised the white dress and the pale face and 
 glittering eyes of Kitty M'Cree — or, rather, of Kitty O'Ehea, 
 his wife. 
 
 " Oh, its you," he said in a careless voice. " Come along, 
 sonnie," he continued, in as kindly a tone as he could 
 assume, putting his hand out and dragging the boy forward 
 by the arm. " Come along ! " he cried with impatience. 
 " Do you think I'm an ogre that eats little loons ? — or are 
 you feared at the way I was amusing myself ? " He shut 
 the door behind them. " Come iu," he went on, speaking 
 still to the boy, but with a doubtful, considering glance now 
 and then at Kitty, whose gaze never released him. " I'm 
 glad you're come ; I want you." 
 
 He led the way into his living-room, with his hand on 
 Hamish's shoulder, and was followed in silence by Kitty. 
 
 "Hamish, my son," said he, "I want you to do some- 
 thing — to do something." But his eyes, in furtive astonish- 
 ment, followed Kitty about as, drawing off her gloves and 
 removing her hat, she set herself quietly to put the room 
 in order, and he could not give his attention to the point of 
 business. " Who sent her here ? " he asked Hamish in a low 
 voice. 
 
 " She bade me bring her," answered the boy in a scared 
 tone of protest. " It's no my wyte ! She said she maun 
 gang hame to her man, 'cause she's been married the 
 day!" 
 
 " Oh, she understands that, does she ?" exclaimed O'Rhea. 
 
 " And ye are her man now, arena ye 1 " asked the boy. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, "I suppose Tam, d — n her, and you 
 are my son ! But that's all right. We'll get on, won't we? 
 You're a broth of a boy — hey ? " and he drew Hamish and 
 pressed him close to his side. 
 
 But the boy did not respond. He was instinct with 
 doubt, distress, and fear ; and there was not a spark of filial 
 affection to lighten his darkness. He had a mind to cry, 
 but he did not. He spoke up frankly, however, and said : 
 
 " I'd raji;her be the Master's loon. What for did he bid 
 you be my father ? " 
 
 " It's a pity, isn't it ? " sniggered O'Rhea. " But a son 
 
294 THE KINa OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 cannot choose his own father, less even than a father can 
 choose his own son. Do ye understand that ? No. But ye 
 will some day. And meantime, let me tell you that you'll 
 see, before you are many days older, that it's better to have 
 me for a father than anybody else you can name. So now 
 look ahve, my son, and obey your father. Skirt up to Tam- 
 son's and get a word with Tam Tamson without his father 
 or mother hearing or seeing— you can manage it— and tell 
 him to come down to me at once — at once, mind ! And then 
 you needn't come back here to-night, because I've no bed 
 for you. Sleep as you usually do— at the Master's— and then 
 you can come to me in the morning. Now skirt." 
 
 And Hamish set off, not ill-pleased with the arrange- 
 ment. 
 
 Thus O'Rhea was left alone with his daft wife. He was 
 not at his ease in her company ; he resented her presence, 
 and he would have given way to the rude desire to bundle 
 her out-of-doors but that he had something of a savage, su- 
 perstitious dread of her madness, and a kind of shy respect 
 for her quietnass and self-possession. Had she revealed any 
 hesitation or shringing before him, it is probable he would 
 have shown himself a lewd fellow of the baser sort ; as it 
 was, he leaned on the table sprawling-wise and considei'ed 
 her closely as she went to and fro. She took his peculiar 
 black pipe from the mantelpiece and put its bowl to her 
 nose ; she sneezed, and retired from it as a cat might, and he 
 called her to him. 
 
 " Come here, Kitty, my dear," he said. 
 
 She came and stood over against him, still with her bright 
 eyes fixed on him. 
 
 " So you think yoii know me, Kitty ? " he said. 
 
 " Ken ye ? " said she. " Ay, fine that ! Ye're the lad that 
 married me the day, and thank ye kindly." 
 
 " Ah, ye're not so daft but that you know you were mar- 
 ried ? " he cried. 
 
 " Daft ? " quoth she, as in wonder. " Gosh be here ! wha's 
 daft ? Ye dinna mean yersel' ? " 
 
 She leaned towards him with such intent and glittering 
 eyes that he faltered with something of fear. 
 
THE PLOT THICKENS. 295 
 
 " Perhaps I am daft ! — perhaps I am ! " he said lightly, 
 with a sham, airy touch of sadness. 
 
 She viewed him in obvious pity and perplexity. 
 
 "Ye ha'e been kind, kind to me," she said, "an' I canna 
 leave ye, daft or no. Ill bide wi' ye, and I'll gang wi' ye 
 to the end, though ye should gang to the ill pairt,'* 
 "Whist ! " she said suddenly, laying her hand on his. " Is't 
 windy ? " 
 
 " Windy ? " said he, rising abruptly, and going to the 
 door, for he did not like her close contact, and her eagerness 
 and uncanniness shook his nerves. " No, it can't be ! " 
 
 She put her hand to her brow and pushed up her hair as 
 if to ease her head from a sense of oppression. 
 
 " There's aye a wind roaring and soughing in my head," 
 said she, following him out. " I canna get awa' frae't ! It 
 soughs and it roars till my head is sair, and my heart baith. 
 I kenna what for ! And whiles it comes in a great bluffart 
 and stounds me, and syne it changes to the sound o' a wee 
 bit bairn catching for breath ! Guidsakes ! To bide your 
 lone and hear sic things day and night is no mouze ! " t 
 
 " God's truth ! " he exclaimed with a shudder ; for clearly 
 he saw that what still affected her senses and imagination 
 was the night of storm on which he had deserted her. He 
 was almost, for the moment, affected to repentance. 
 
 "But," she continued in such sprightly fashion that the 
 impression of the past vanished from him, " it's been a 
 prettj' day, and the Chairtist Banner fluffed bonny in the 
 wind, and the Chairtist lads were as brisk at footin' it as 
 ever. Ay, an' I was married afore them a" ! If t'ane didna, 
 t'other did ; I'm as braw a lass and as honest now as ony o' 
 them, and thank ye kindly. Woo'd and married and a'," 
 she said, smiling and beckoning to him, 2coo'd and mar- 
 ried and a\ Oh, isna she very iceel afftliafs woo\l and 
 married and a'.' '' 
 
 Again she took his hand, and again he shook her off by 
 returning into his living-room. Her gratitude and devotion 
 embarrassed him, and her desire to appropriate his hand 
 
 * That is, Tiell. t ifouzf, ordinary, endurable. 
 
296 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 made him fear a recrudescence of her identification of him 
 with her lost lover. Moreover, every instant now he was 
 expecting Tam Tamson to appear, and he did not wish that 
 loose-tongued youth to be able to gossip about Kitty's pres- 
 ence in his society. He therefore stood before Kitty with 
 his hands at his back and smiled on her. 
 
 "Kitty," said he, "if you're married to me,. I'm your 
 man ; and consequently you'll do my bidding — won't you ? " 
 
 " Ay, it's the Lord's will," said she humbly, " that if a 
 woman has a man she should mak' his parritch and mend 
 his sark." 
 
 " Well," said he suavely, " I'll not trouble you about 
 porridge to-night, my dear, but in there," nodding his head 
 towards the inner room, " there's a sark or two to look at. 
 Will ye go ben, Kitty? — because," he added, "one of the 
 lads is coming to see me.'' 
 
 With a demure humility she went " ben," O'Ehea lighting 
 her with the candle in the bottle. He set the candle down 
 handy for her, nodded, and shut the door — and softly locked 
 it. Then in the darkness of the outer room he found another 
 candle and another bottle, and scratched an evil-smelling 
 sulphur " spunk " to make a light for himself. 
 
 He had barely sat down, scratching his head and snig- 
 gering, to consider his odd situation, when he heard a step 
 crunching up to his front door, and he went out to receive 
 Tam Tamson. 
 
 " Now," said he, leading the youth in with his arm about 
 his neck, " you dare-devil son of a gun, you must look alive 
 and get that tiddy-bag of yours ready, for it's ' hoist the top- 
 sails ' to-morrow night as soon as ever the tide makes ! " 
 
 " Crikey ! Is it, though ? " exclaimed the delighted Tam. 
 
 "Yes," cried O'Rhea, "and no d — d slinking, creeshie 
 weavers in the company, I can tell you ! None but well- 
 seasoned and pickled old tarry-breeks and some dare-devil 
 loons like yourself ! I've nobbled the pudding-headed king, 
 and it's ' heave and awash ! ' and, damme, I'm your captain ! 
 Sq now, like the man in the Bible, take your pen quickly 
 and write as I bid you ! " 
 
 Tam happened to be without his pen and his ink-phial, 
 
THE PLOT THICKENS. 297 
 
 and O'Rliea cursed him and bade him use his pencil. He 
 sat down, and O'Rhea tramped to and fro. 
 
 " Are you ready ? " he asked. " Very well, write : 
 
 " ' To James Hutcheon, known in Ilkastane, among poor 
 brutes of creeshie weavers, as the Master of Hutcheon — this 
 for your information. You have been imposed on and taken 
 in and made a fool of by him you have patronised and in- 
 sulted, namely, Fergus O'Rhea. The Royal letter you think 
 so much of is a bare faced fraud and forgery that nobody 
 but an idiot like you and the ignorant idiots round about 
 you would have believed for a moment. It was invented by 
 Fergus O'Rhea for his amusement. The Queen never had 
 your letter, and would not have taken any notice of it or of 
 you if she had. She knows nothing about you, and never 
 appointed you to anything ; so, now that the man O'Rhea is 
 off in the ship you kindly paid for, and with the stores your 
 money laid in, and you are flammed and flouted and beg- 
 gared up, the best thing you can do, since you can't wear a 
 crown, is to repent the rest of your days in a fool's cap.' 
 
 " That'll fit him ! " said he when he had done dictating. 
 " And now, bl — t you, copy that out in ink at your ofiice ! 
 He'll not know the hand ; and mind you post it to him to- 
 morrow afternoon. And another thing, my son, and a very 
 important thing : go into the town as early as you can and 
 tell you know who to meet me at ' The Hole in the Wall ' at 
 three in the afternoon sharp — three sharp, mind, ye spalpeen I 
 And now you can skirt and spend your last night under the 
 roof of your estimable parents ! " 
 
 20 
 
298 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 INQUISITION. 
 
 That last act of O'Rhea's was reckless. He knew it was 
 reckless, but he was now so flown with security and inso- 
 lence, he was so much the kind of person who delights to 
 shave the edge of danger, and he was so bent on reaching 
 well forward, so to say, to deal the Master a vengeful clout, 
 that he perpetrated the recorded piece of levity and impu- 
 dence, and in its perpetration overlooked the most obvious 
 source of danger. It did not once occur to him the docu- 
 ment might miscarry, and that much too early for his 
 purpose. 
 
 It came to pass that Tarn Tamson made an egregious 
 blunder that very night. Being a young and inexperienced 
 pirate, he was exceedingly lifted up by the new prospect of 
 treading the deck as an enrolled desperado, and in his re- 
 joicing he began to array himself in some of his piratical 
 treasures as soon as he had gone to his garret to bed. He 
 had bought himself a broad leather belt, with vasty buckle, 
 such as heroes ai-e wont to wear when pictured in that 
 literature of " rawhead and bloody bones " in which he 
 delighted, and with that he endued himself. By purchase 
 and by theft he had got together an arsenal of small 
 weaipons, notable among which was his mother's best carv- 
 ing-knife in a sheath painfully made out of the leg of a 
 Wellington boot of his father's, and these he desperately 
 stuck in the belt. He had acquired from a barber's shop in 
 town a pair of ample moustachios, and these he pasted on 
 his lip. And then he swaggered up and down the floor, 
 swelling with piratical pride, as if he were on the quarter- 
 deck of the brigantine — swaggered and stamped and swore 
 imtil the door opened and he faced his angry father. 
 
 " What the sorra are ye about ? What in the warld's 
 earth ha'e ye gotten on ? And— guidsakes ! a baird ? I'se 
 baird ye, ye play-acting nickem ! " 
 
 Such was the crescendo of amazement and wrath with 
 
INQUISITION. 299 
 
 which Hew Tamson greeted his son's remarkable present- 
 ment. Straightway he seized the loon by the ear and led 
 him from the dim light of his garret down to the clear 
 illumination of the living-room, into the presence of his 
 mother. There the bewildered Tam was beset with exclama- 
 tions and questions. His weapons were plucked from his 
 belt and examined, and — 
 
 " Eh, my best knife, ye thieving limmer ! " cried his 
 mother. " Guidsakes, Hew, the loon'll be transported yet ! " 
 
 " What ha'e I tauld ye ? " responded Hew. " ' Spare the 
 rod,' and ye ken the rest ! What's the meaning o' this play- 
 acting ploy ? Whaur got ye a' they things ? My certy I 
 durks and pistols ! D'ye hear me spiering ? " And the 
 amazed and wrathful father still pinched his son's ear and 
 shook him by the arm, and still Tam replied only " Nae- 
 whaur " and "Naething." 
 
 " Ripe * his pouches, Hew ! " said the practical mother, 
 " and see what mair he has ! " 
 
 And Hew " riped " his son's pockets, and, of course, found 
 the singular letter which Tam had written to O'Rhea's 
 dictation. 
 
 " Gi'e me that ! " cried the desperate Tam. " That's, no 
 mine I That's a letter for Maister Hutcheon ! Ye daurna 
 touch that 1 " 
 
 " And what ha'e ye to do wi' Maister Hutcheon ? " cried 
 both parents. 
 
 The eyes of both met ; the same thought shone from both. 
 The letter was not sealed, and so there could be no harm in 
 reading it, though a seal would scarcely have hindered either 
 from learning what was within. 
 
 " Read it. Hew," advised the wife. 
 
 And Hew read, with his mind toiling in wonder and per- 
 plexity. 
 
 " Gosh be here 1 " he suddenly cried in his rasping voice, 
 "but this maun ha'e to do with the identical clash the 
 weavers baud about their gaun awa' 1 This is your hand o' 
 write, you vagabone, that I paid ten shillings the half year 
 
 * Searoh. 
 
300 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 for you to learn, instead o' which, ye thrawn gyte, ye sit 
 down and fit yoursel' for hangin' or transportation ! But 
 I'll learn ye ! Ye'll just tell me what a' this clishmaclaver, 
 and writin', and Queen's letters, and durks and pistols mean, 
 or, de'il ha'e me, but I'll half murther ye ! " 
 
 Hew Tamson was now so wrought with passion (which 
 was half voracious curiosity) that he fetched a cane from 
 the corner, and stood over his son with his small pig's eyes 
 fierce and red. It says much for the domination of O'Rhea 
 that Tam, even at that moment of imminent castigation, 
 feared him more than he feared his father. He stood obsti- 
 nately silent. His father made the supple cane whistle in 
 the air, and roared at him : 
 
 " Are ye for telling me, ye thrawn sorra, or are ye for 
 this switch about your hurdles ? " 
 
 Still Tam stood silent, and down came the cane. 
 
 " Oh, dinna, Hew ! " cried the mother, now distracted with 
 the imagination of the suffering of her first-born. " Dinna 
 hurt him sae ! " 
 
 But the swish of the strokes seemed only to nerve the 
 father's arm with more vigour. He laid on till his son cried 
 aloud : 
 
 " Dinna, father ! dinna 1 I'll tell ye ! " 
 
 And the unheroic Tam, with all his obstinacy and all his 
 piracy gone out of him, squirmed and sobbed with pain and 
 made a clean breast of all he knew. 
 
 " And so," said Hew, when he had heard his son out, " ye 
 were gaun awa' too, ye ongrateful vagabone ! " 
 
 " Oh, dinna misca' the laddie mair. Hew ! " pleaded the 
 mother. " He's but a laddie, and he's been led astray by 
 them that should ken better — by they idle, orra gypes — 
 Fergus O'Rhea and the Maister ! " 
 
 " Od, gudewife ! but there's mair in this than ye ha'e een 
 for ! " declared Tamson with a vindictive pursing of his 
 mouth. " I'll gar the Maister smart f or't now ! He ca'd the 
 tune, and he maun pay the piper ! This is a Government 
 business ! This is nane o' your sma'-thread pliskies ! This 
 is just another Chairtist conspiracy ; some folk never ha'e 
 eneugh o' onything ! And the morn's morning, my lad. 
 
INQUISITION. 301 
 
 yell gang afore ane o' the town bailies and tell him what 
 ye ha'e tauld me, and maybe ye'll get aff as a kind o' Queen's 
 Evidence, and no be hangit or transported as ye deserve 
 to be ! " 
 
 Tam was locked by his father into the garret for tlie 
 night. Next morning early he was released and led to the 
 Hargate Mill, into the presence of Bailie Lepine. He was 
 now in an abject condition of terror. His father's vigorous 
 application of the rod, and his relentless threat of transpor- 
 tation or the gallows, if anything were kept back, had re- 
 duced his mind to a nerveless, painful, palpitating jelly, so 
 that he could not have kept anything back even if he 
 would. 
 
 " Providence has willed it sae. Bailie," began Hew Tani- 
 son, " that I should be the ane to put my foot into a grand 
 hornet's nest o' conspiracy. I ha'e been sair misdoubtin' 
 the look o' things whiles ye hae been awa'. Bailie. The 
 weavers o' Ilkastane ha'e gane rank mad. They've been 
 bringing me in the end o' their wabs — ill-woven trash 
 maistly, and I promise ye the fines were flying ; but flent a 
 hair cared they. 'We dinna want nae mair wabs,' says 
 they, ' we're gaun awa' ! ' " 
 
 " Hein f " cried the Bailie. " No more webs ? Going 
 away ? To where, man ? " 
 
 " That's the sticker. Bailie ! But it's true eneugh. Nae 
 mair work, and selling oflf by private bargain or public 
 roup "^ a' their bit sticks ! Gosh be here, sir ! There's been 
 naething doing in Ilkastane for a fortnicht but kissing and 
 courting and singing o' songs ! Yesterday there was the 
 de'il's ain ploy ; marrying and giving in marriage, and danc- 
 ing and feasting as in the days afore the flood ! " 
 
 " What flood ? What do all this mean ? What do it 
 mean ? Hein f " cried the Bailie, rapping his desk im- 
 patiently. " Do not say so many dam -long words of it ! " 
 
 " It means this, Bailie," said the tall Tamson, bending 
 towards his employer, and slowly dropping the portentous 
 words in his ear : " Your trade's to be ruined now by the 
 
 * Roup — Auction. 
 
302 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 weavers being ta'en awa' a'thegither 1 Ha'e ye forgotten 
 the wark about the prices, and about the ivhamleerie thing 3 
 There's another Chairtist conspiracy and rebellion on foot. 
 That's about the size o't ! And wha's the heads o't but him 
 they ca' the Maister o' Hutcheon, and that limb o' Sawtan, 
 Fergus O'Rhea ! " 
 
 "P(f / my good Tamson," said the Bailie. " Your head 
 liave the maggot ! Your story is of the cock and of the 
 bull ! The Master of Hutcheon have a mission from the 
 Queen. That is what it is ! That is all ! " 
 
 " Oh, ye've heard, then, sir, about this Queen's letter 2 " 
 said Tamson, his pig's eyes burning into the question. 
 
 " Yes, I have heard ; I have heard," answered the Bailie. 
 
 " And ye think I'm wrang ? Weel, read that, sir." He 
 handed the impudent letter addressed to the Master. The 
 Bailie read it, and read it again, and then looked at Tamson, 
 instinct with amazement and rage. " I can see that aston- 
 ishes ye, sir, as it did me.'' 
 
 " Where come this from ? " demanded the Bailie. 
 
 " That loon o' mine — wha has been drawn up to the neck 
 into this business — wrote it out at the dictate o' Fergus 
 O'Rhea, and put it in his pouch to copy out and post the 
 day. By the mercy o' Providence I claught haud o't, and 
 by logic mair forcible than moral suasion I got the haill 
 story out o' him, for, tliough he's my ain son, he's a thrawn 
 taed. — Speak up, ye nickem, and tell the Bailie how ye 
 wrote for Fergus O'Rhea that fause Queen's letter in the 
 bonny hand o' write I had to pay for your learning." 
 
 Tarn answered, and the Bailie listened with close at- 
 tention, his mind the while fiercely revolving the whole 
 matter. 
 
 "Ay,'' commented Tamson, "what think ye o' that? 
 The barefaced impidence o't ! Taking Her Majesty's name 
 in vain ! I'm thinking she'll no hold him guiltless when 
 she gets to hear o't ! But, gosh ! he's made a fine fule o' the 
 Maister ! — making him a king o' an outlandish place nae- 
 body ever heard o' ! " 
 
 Thus he continued, suggesting his son's answer, and then 
 eagerly and triumphantly passing his comment upon each 
 
INQUISITION. 303 
 
 enormity as it was disclosed. And all the while the Bailie 
 sat at his desk and only revealed his interest and agitation 
 in the flashing of his fiery eye from father to son, and in 
 frequently taking dips of ink as if he would write, and then 
 only stabbing and staining his blotting-pad. 
 
 "Now tell the Bailie," said Tamson, "the real business 
 that was at the back o't. . . . Ay. Ye see, Bailie ! naething 
 less than war and piracy on the high seas ! A hanging 
 business, as sure as death 1 And tell the Bailie o' the ship 
 that's been bought — a brigantine ! naething less ! — and the 
 guns and the cutlashes and a' the other things ! . . . Ay, 
 just think o' that I A' they things maun ha'e eaten up the 
 feck * o' that fortune the Maister cam' into ! And now tell, 
 ye nickem, o' this last thing o' yestreen. . . . Ay. D'ye 
 see. Bailie ? The Maister's aflf this morning some gate or 
 other, and whiles he's awa', this limb o' Sawtan, Fergus 
 O'Rhea, means to be aff wi' the tide ! It's a maitter for the 
 fiscal and the sherra — isna't, Bailie ? And there's nae time 
 to be lost ! " 
 
 " It is so," said the Bailie, rousing from his thoughts, toss- 
 ing down his pen, and standing upon his feet. " There is 
 no time I But this is my affair — my affair ! Go to your 
 work, Tamson ! This letter I keep in my hand. I will be 
 responsible.'' 
 
 " Surely, Bailie, surely," said Tamson. " And this on- 
 grateful taed o' mine— what o' him ? " 
 
 "Let him here stay. I will make him one — two ques- 
 tions," said the Bailie. " Do not fear ; he will be safe." 
 
 And Tamson turned and said to his son : 
 
 " Miud ye behave yoursel', ye sorra, and speak up, and 
 keep naething back, and it'll be the better for ye." 
 
 And so he went out of the office to his duty in the mill. 
 
 The Bailie had maintained his dignity before Tamson, 
 but only by sheer force of silence ; for had he once given 
 way to his feelings, reserve, dignity, and honour would all 
 have been swept away. His mind was a seething pot of 
 humiliation and resentment. That large, expansive, per- 
 
 * Feck — the greater part. 
 
30i THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 spiring Mirabeau, the villain O'Rhea, had palpably taken 
 him in, made use of him, and bluffed him ; and that sham 
 king, sham Master, sham aristocrat, sham everything, who 
 had been befooled by O'Rhea, had actually imposed on him, 
 a man of substance and consideration, an employer of 
 labour and a town's magistrate! His resentment against 
 Hutcheon was all the deeper now that he had treated the 
 impostor with respect, and with homage and dread even, 
 that he had invited him to his house, and had almost given 
 him his daughter in marriage. 
 
 " The insolent I " he exclaimed, stamping up and down 
 liis floor ; for he felt no such necessity of restraint before 
 the son as he had felt before the father. " The nobody ! — 
 the sans-culotte ! — he come to me, and he make me do things 
 with his eye and his nose ! But I will have him ! The fool ! 
 the idiot ! he spend all the money ! — Have the O'Rhea 
 spend much of the money, you think ? " he suddenly de- 
 manded of Tam. 
 
 " Oh, thoosands and thoosands, Bailie I " answered the 
 ready Tam. 
 
 " The jackass ! The hombogue 1 — with the head in cloud ! 
 But I will show him ! He enter my house, he eat my viand, 
 
 and he drink my wine ; and he Enfin ! There is an 
 
 end ! We go to the Fiscal ! " 
 
 ■' And I can tell ye something mair. Bailie," declared the 
 traitor Tam, " that I ha'ena tauld my father : I ha'e to bid 
 twa-three o' his chaps meet him at three o'clock sharp this 
 afternoon at ' The Hole in the TT'ia','" 
 
 By " him " Tam of course meant O'Rhea, for he had not 
 perceived tliat the line of the Bailie's resentment was 
 directed against the Master. The Bailie looked at the young 
 traitor and considered what he had said. He wondered to 
 find that the voice and disposition of the young cock so 
 closely resembled those of the old. 
 
 "I comprend ! — I see!" said he. "It is good! — good! 
 Now, M'sieu Tam — entendez-vous .' — you take the message 
 to the two-three chap, and you receive for your own pocket 
 a one-pound, and you will not be punish ; me, I promise. 
 See. one-pound ! " And he took from his pocket-book and 
 
HOW O'RHEA PARED. 305 
 
 exhibited a dirty one-pound note. " If you do not, M'sieu 
 Tam ! — if you play the trick ! — then you will be punish ! you 
 will be skelp ! Entendez-vous ! Now we go to the Fiscal ! " 
 
 The two set off into the town together, and Tam, though 
 in a Bailie's safe company, often glanced fearfully behind 
 lest he might be pursued by the terrible O'Rhea. They 
 went to the old Court-house in the Castlegate, attached to 
 which were the police and other offices. There the Bailie 
 found the Procurator-Fiscal, though it was still early, and 
 to him he set forth his story. The Fiscal listened in 
 astonishment, and though he could not believe that this 
 conspiracy was, as the Bailie contended, a recrudescence of 
 Chartism, yet he could have no doubt that both Hutcheon 
 and O'Rhea were under great suspicion as old Chartist 
 offenders, and it was plain that the expedition they had 
 planned was treasonable, inasmuch as they had got arms 
 together and proposed to carry certain of Her Majesty's 
 subjects out of the country for an unknown, and probably 
 an unlawful, purpose. It was arranged, therefore, that, as 
 soon as the sheriff or his substitute could be got at, warrants 
 should issue for the arrest of the persons of Fergus O'Rhea 
 and of James Hutcheon. 
 
 In the meantime the traitor Tam was left in the safe 
 but kindly custody of the law, to be made use of by the 
 Fiscal. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXYII. 
 HOW o'rhea fared. 
 
 That proved an unfortunate day for O'Rhea. First of 
 all, the weather was against him ; for the air was terribly 
 hot and close, tempting to inaction, and making for the 
 gross O'Rhea the mere lifting of a hand, or raising of the 
 voice, a considerable exertion, to be performed only in the 
 sweat of the brow. But, in truth, the first touch of what he 
 
306 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 regarded as ill-luck was tliat Kitty could in no wise be 
 shaken off. His silence did not sadden her ; and such 
 harsh words as he ventured to address to her had not the 
 effect of making her move farther from him. She regarded 
 herself, it was evident, as inalienably bound to him, and 
 she waited on his every step, and hung attentive on his 
 every word. But the extraordinary thing was that she 
 seemed as if she were already beginning to recover her 
 original self ; there was less of the light of frenzy in her 
 eye, her manner was more composed, and memory and 
 observation were plainly striving in her. 
 
 The next thing which troubled him was Hamish's failure 
 to return according to his instruction. The touch of trouble 
 and irritation became acute anxiety and doubt when he 
 visited Hutcheon's close (followed by Kitty) to find the boy. 
 The Master was gone on his journey, but the boy was no- 
 where to be seen, nor could anyone tell him what was be- 
 come of him. 
 
 " Look here, Kitty,'' he said to his embarrassing com- 
 panion, on the chance of her understanding him, " the loon 
 — your own son ! — is lost. It would better set you to find 
 him than to bide at my heel like a shepherd's dog." 
 
 Her answer surprised and troubled him. 
 
 " I ha'e neither man nor woman bairn that I ken o'. I 
 ha'e nane but you, and ye're my man. Ye ha'e been kind, 
 kind to me — kinder than words can say ! — and I'll no leave 
 ye for onybody ! ' Whither thou goest, I will go ; and 
 where thou lodgest, I will lodge.' Thus saith the Lord." 
 
 With a shrug and snigger he ceased trying to persuade 
 her. He conceived it would be quite easy to give her the 
 slip at the necessary moment. 
 
 When they had returned to his shanty he set her to pack 
 his " duds " into a sea-chest which he had bought, but which 
 he had no intention of taking with him on board. He had 
 there lodged a sufficient outfit for himself. While she was 
 kneeling thus occupied over the chest, he softly shut the 
 door upon her, stole out of the shanty on tip-toe, and sped 
 away down the burnside. He was beginning to think him- 
 self securely off — at length disembarrassed of his irksome 
 
HOW O'RHEA FARED. 307 
 
 wife — when he heard the light patter of steps, and, glancing 
 behind him, there was Kitty a few yards in his rear. He 
 continued, as if he were not aware of her neighbourhood, 
 and still he heard her light footfall, neither coming nearer 
 nor falling beliind ; and still as he went he perspired in the 
 terrible heat, and mopped his forehead, while (he thought 
 of it with a ferocious grudge) he had no doubt she followed 
 cool and dry. In the busier part of the town he ceased to 
 hear her, but still he was certain she was steadily following ; 
 for, though he did not look behind, he saw in the faces of 
 passengers on the other side of the way that his daft wife 
 was in her place ; and still he toiled sweating on, raging 
 inwardly at her and the heat, and hearing townsfolk say, 
 as they passed him, "Ay, there's thunder in the air," or 
 " There'll be a storm afore niclit." Passing by unfrequented 
 lanes, in the rear of shipbuilding yards to the outer harbour, 
 where the ship was now moored ready for sailing, he again 
 heard her footsteps behind, and the sound began to affect 
 his nerves. He was of a superstitious turn, and the even, 
 persistent step appealed to him as the dogging of a vengeful 
 spirit, content patiently to bide its time, when it would leap 
 on his back and ride him to his doom. He shuddered, and 
 involuntarily he looked behind; certainly Kitty followed 
 him, and no other. He tried to reassure himself, but the 
 strength of his superstitious feeling was shown in his remark 
 to himself when he slipped down the gangway on shipboard : 
 
 " We'll see if water won't turn her off." 
 
 Kitty did not follow him on board. She sat down, how- 
 ever, on the quay, in the shadow of a shed, and waited for 
 his reappearance ; and he, when he had accomplished his 
 business on board, was secretly rowed away from the re- 
 moter side of the ship and landed in the inner harbour. 
 
 And Kitty still waited and waited, shaded from the heat 
 — with what anxious and vague fumbling after the truth of 
 her condition and circumstances who may say ? She herself 
 could never tell, except that observation and recollection 
 woke shrewdly up with the appearance of a posse of police- 
 constables, who came suddenly from behind the shed and 
 made swiftly for the gangway of the ship. The sight of 
 
308 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 them at once swept back her wandering thoughts to the 
 Chartists and their dread of arrest by the men in blue. 
 Acute fear and trembling seized her, so that when she heard 
 the voices of two policemen standing near — left, doubtless, 
 as a reserve on the lookout — she remained rooted to her 
 seat, powerless with terror, but her hearing so awake that 
 she felt as if she were all one buzzing, throbbing ear. 
 
 " Isna this Fergus O'Rhea," said the one to the other, 
 " the Chairtist chield we used to hear o' ? " 
 
 " The identical same, I believe,'' said the other. " They're 
 going on to nab him, and twa-tlu-ee mair, at ' The Hole in 
 the Wd'.'' 'Od, he'll catch it this time, or I'm mista'en ! 
 The Sherra's ta'en the matter up himsel' ! " 
 
 These words provoked in her one clear effort of memory 
 and vision. She was back in the Chartist terror of eight 
 yeai'S ago. The Chartists were in danger ; most of all Fergus 
 O'Rhea, the most precious of men, her accepted lover, and 
 he was on the point of arrest ! The quick desire to save him 
 reanimated her with strength and foresight. Like a with- 
 ered leaf in a high wind she whisked round the corner of 
 the shed out of sight of the policemen, and went skimming 
 away back towards the town. 
 
 " ' The Hole in the Wo" ! ' ' The Hole in the TT7t' .' ' " she 
 continued to whisper fiercely to herself as she sped along, 
 whipping memory to do its work. " Oh, whaur's ' The Hole 
 in the Wa' ' .' " Then gradually and easily, as on the demand 
 of excitement there comes back to us the dialect and tones 
 of our youth, there broke on Kitty a vision of the streets and 
 wynds of the town which had once been familiar, and she 
 saw clearly her goal, against the foot of the precipitous castle- 
 rock — the little dram-shop with red blinds which was known 
 as " The Hole in the Wa':' 
 
 She swept into the open passage of the little tavern, tried 
 a door on the left. The room was empty ; dashed to a door 
 on the right, and found herself facing a number of sailors 
 and soldiers, all seated about a table, sprawling in the heat, 
 and turned eagerly towards one who sat at the end — her 
 "man" — with his arms spread in his favourite fashion, 
 speaking with insistent forefinger I 
 
HOW O'lillEA FARED. 309 
 
 "Fer^s O'Rhea! Fergus O'Rhea! Is Fergus O'Rhea 
 here ? " she cried, and then paused for breath. 
 
 " Well, what the devil do you want with me now ? " de- 
 manded he at the head of the table, bringing down his great 
 fist with a bang that made the dram-glasses jingle. 
 
 It perplexed her to understand how her "man" and 
 Fergus O'Rhea were one and the same ; but her perplexity 
 was swallowed up in the immediate anxiety. 
 
 " The polls is after ye ! " she said in pants. " You and 
 twa-three mair's to be nabbed here, at ' The Hole in the 
 IFa' .' ' " 
 
 " What daft story's that ? " cried O'Rhea, his great face 
 livid, and his sensual lips shot out with fury. " Who told 
 you that ? " 
 
 " I heard them say't mysel' I " answered Kitty. " The 
 twa men in blue I And the rest o' them's on your ship 1 
 And oh, but they garred me grue ! " 
 
 O'Rhea and his companions looked on each other in fear 
 and suspicion. They were within an ace of panic, for each 
 doubted the others, none knew on what charge the police 
 should seek them, and yet all had consciences which accused 
 them of unlawful and evil designs. The soldiers were full 
 of the intention of deserting their regiment, and the sailors 
 of the prospect of piracy on distant seas, while O'Rhea him- 
 self, conscious of being an outlawed Chartist, and doubtful 
 of the legality of fitting out an armed ship, was keenly 
 aware that if he were hindered from sailing away in the 
 ship that night he would have to reckon with an outraged 
 and angry master. At that critical moment O'Rhea kept 
 his head. 
 
 " Steady, boys ! " he cried, noting a pervasive flutter as if 
 for escape. " If anybody is wanted it's me. And if it's true 
 that the ship is seized, then it's a pretty serious business. 
 But we've gone too far on the way of forttme to turn back, 
 damme ! for all the peelers in Inverdoon ! " 
 
 " Whisht ! " cried Kitty, inclining her ear to the door. 
 
 " We must make our arrangements at once," continued 
 O'Rhea, " in case they come to ask for me. It's best to be 
 oil the safe side of a door, and the safe side's the outside. 
 
310 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 So this meeting is adjourned, to be resumed at twelve to- 
 night " — he leaned forward and spoke in a low whisper — 
 " at the water-corner of Strang's shipyard ; and we'll hoist 
 our top-sails and have our ship out yet on the run of the 
 ebb, or my name's not Fergus O'Rhea ! Now, hook it ! I 
 wait here to know if I'm really wanted, and what for." 
 
 The door was opened, and the company rose to pass out. 
 Two or three had already got into the passage, when they 
 pressed back upon those urging them forward. 
 
 " Get in, ye beggars ! " they cried with scared faces. " Get 
 in ! The peelers are here ! " 
 
 All crowded back into the room, and stood dismayed but 
 grim. They were desperate ruffians, red-coats and tarry- 
 breeks who had faced danger often, who had a sense of dis- 
 cipline, but who required a lead. 
 
 " This ' Hole in the IT'a' ' is naething but a rat-trap ! " 
 said one of the sailors. 
 
 " There's the window ! " said a soldier. " I've used it 
 mony a time ! If ye're not ower thick ye can squeeze 
 atween the house and the rock down into the gutter, and get 
 out into the neist close ! " 
 
 " Quick, then ! " said O'Rhea. " The window be it ; though 
 I doubt I'm too thick to use it. I'll keep the door fast. 
 And strike up, ye beggars ! strike up ' We're wearin' awa' to 
 the Land o' the Leal ! ' so that the clatter o' your brogues as 
 ye get through the window mayna be heard ! " At that 
 there was a snigger of approval from the company. " Kitty, 
 you limmer ! " he cried, " start the tune. You used to know 
 it well enough ! " 
 
 Kitty obediently raised the melancholy song, in which 
 all the company joined in a low voice and according to their 
 ability, and one by one clambered out at the little window. 
 Scarce half the company had thus departed when there 
 sounded a heavy knocking at the door. On that authori- 
 tative demand for attention those remaining instinctively 
 turned and paused in their singing. 
 
 " Sing, ye beggars ! " said O'Rhea. " We mustn't be sup- 
 posed to hear that. Get out with ye ! " 
 
 The singing had been so managed that, as the company 
 
HOW O'EIIEA PARED. 311 
 
 became fewer, those left raised the pitch and volume of their 
 voices, to the intent that anyone without should hardly tell 
 wliether the number of singers were growing less or no, 
 until there remained but two or three besides Kitty and 
 O'Rhea, when any attempt to disguise their decrease was 
 imavailing. Then, as if the knocking at the door had been 
 heard for the first time, the singing ceased. 
 
 " Who is there ? " demanded O'Rhea. 
 
 " Open," was the answer, " in the Queen's name ! " 
 
 " What does the Queen want here ? " demanded O'Rhea. 
 
 " You are ordered to open," was the answer. " That's 
 enough for you to begin with." 
 
 O'Rhea saw the last man vanish over the window-sill, and 
 then he whispered to Kitty, " The window's not for me. I'm 
 too big. I must get away by the door, but you must help 
 me. When I make a dash, hang on to the coat-tails of as 
 many as you can. And, Kitty, you've been a good girl, and, 
 as sure as God made me, you and the boy shall go with me ! 
 Get home to Ilkastane as fast as you can, and I'll meet you 
 there to-night." 
 
 The impatient knocking was repeated. "Now," de- 
 manded a voice, '' are you going to open, or no ? " 
 
 O'Rhea undid the bolts and flung the door wide. 
 
 " Now," he demanded, standing well back into the middle 
 of the room, and speaking with a flourish of bravado, 
 ■' what's this to-do about ? Can't a few friends be left in 
 peace, because they happen to be singing and dafKng over 
 a dram ? " 
 
 Three men in police uniform pressed in and looked about 
 in surprise. 
 
 "My friends didn't like the noise you made," said O'Rhea 
 with a snigger, " so they hooked it by the back door,'' and 
 he pointed to the open window. 
 
 The three officers looked with wonder on the big man 
 facing them. He seemed to be in the greatest glee, though 
 his perspiration was almost blinding him. 
 
 " Ye're Fergus O'Rhea, I'm thinking," said the foremost, 
 looking on him with threatening eye, while the other two 
 stepped to the window. 
 
312 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 " I am," said O'Ehea. " What then ? " 
 
 The officer uttered his set form of words signifying that 
 he held a warrant from the sheriff for the arrest of Fergus 
 O'Ehea ; and he brandished a folded paper. 
 
 " On what charge ? " demanded O'Ehea. " I believe 
 you're bound to answer me that ! " 
 
 "Treason against Her Majesty," answered the officer, "in 
 that you have " 
 
 He was about to open the paper to assure himself of the 
 form of words, when O'Ehea leapt at him and overturned 
 him, while Kitty did better than hang on to the coat-tails of 
 the other two. She sprang on them and embraced them 
 closely with an arm about each neck, and O'Ehea shot out 
 through the open door, out into the passage, and so into the 
 street, overthrowing or sweeping aside the three or four per- 
 sons he encountered. He shot across the narrow way and 
 disappeared in the mouth of a close, followed by mingled 
 cries of fury and admiration. 
 
 He had escaped ; for it was idle to seek to pursue him 
 (though two policemen made a feint of following) into the 
 devious warren of closes and passages, and among the half- 
 criminal and wholly friendly population which had swal- 
 lowed him up. The exasperated officers, having missed all 
 those for whose arrest they had arranged, seized upon the 
 daft Kitty and haled her o£f on suspicion. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXVm. 
 
 THE MASTER IS EXAMINED. 
 
 Meanwhile, what of the Master ? 
 
 He was up very early to catch the first train to the south, 
 about six o'clock ; indeed, he had scarcely slept all night 
 because of the excitement of anticipation, for a journey was 
 a very rare experience, and rarer still was a meeting v/ith a 
 
THE MASTER IS EXAMINED. 313 
 
 sweetlieart at tlie end. When he was dressing, he noticed 
 that Hamish lay wide awake with his eyes on him. In- 
 stantly he paused. 
 
 " I hadna thought o' that," said he. " What am I to do 
 wi' you, laddie ? " 
 
 " Whaur are ye gaun, Maister ? " asked the boy, with open, 
 anxious eyes. 
 
 " I'm going in the train to Embro'," answered the Master) 
 •' wi' young Maister Lepine, to bring his sister hame. I'll be 
 away till the morn's evening, and I think ye'd better go and 
 get used to your new-found father." 
 
 Then the boy astonished the Master by an outburst of 
 hysterical passion. 
 
 " I winna, Maister— I winna ! " he cried. " I'd rayther 
 run awa' 1 What for did ye gi'e me a father and mither ! I 
 dinna want a father and mither I I want to be your loon ! 
 I'll let ye ha'e her and marry her— ye're no ower auld ! — but 
 let me be your loon ! " 
 
 The Master considered the boy a moment — and then he 
 thought he understood and saw to the bottom of a child's 
 unfathomed feeling. 
 
 " Weel," he murmured, " Nature's a queer, contrary thing ! 
 Ow ! greeting 8 Oh, fie ! A big chield like you, that can 
 think o' marrying, mustna greet ! So ye dinna want to go 
 to your father ? Weel, ye'd better go to the house by the 
 Moss and bide there till I come for ye. Now up wi' ye, and 
 get your parritch, and then aff up the Stocket Road." 
 
 And that was how it came to pass that Hamish was not 
 to be found when O'Rhea sought him. 
 
 In a little while the Master was journeying south in the 
 company of George Lepine ; and he was luxuriating in the 
 freshness of the morning air, and in frequent glimpses of 
 the sea — that sea over which he hoped to sail so soon — at 
 the very hour when the Bailie was furiously arranging for 
 the ruin of all his hopes ! 
 
 The day was still young when he stood in a house in 
 
 Edinburgh new town in the presence of his sweetheart — his 
 
 Aimee, who, fresh and sweet and blushing as a June rose, 
 
 jumped of her own accord into his arms and kissed him, and 
 
 21 
 
314 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 whom lie held for an instant with the surpassing delight of 
 recovered possession. She and Elsie M'Cree were quite 
 ready to travel, for — she exhibited a telegram from her 
 father — she had been ordered to have everything ready to 
 set out. George looked with curiosity and suspicion, and 
 the Master with something like awe — (for to him a telegram 
 was an unfamiliar document) — on the 'Bailie's message. Its 
 terms were explicit; it announced to Aimee that George 
 and the Master would arrive to bring her home, and it re- 
 quested them all to return at once, because it was of the 
 greatest importance they should be back that day. None 
 had any objection to satisfy the Bailie's request, the Master 
 least of all ; for he secretly declared to his love, " I didna 
 come to see " Embro', but to find you ; ye're more than 
 Embro', and Scotland, and the world to me." So, after 
 eating a morsel of food, they set out on their return to 
 Inverdoon. 
 
 How can a mere dealer in prose suggest the delight of 
 that return journey ? Had he even the tongue of an angel 
 to dictate, or the pen of a poet to write, how could he express 
 the sublimity, the intoxication of warm joy wliich surged 
 through the Master's innocent being and raised him to a 
 hitherto unconceived heaven of bliss ? And with the shy 
 ecstacy and trust which his sweetheart manifested, surely it 
 is not for any strange man to meddle. 
 
 The four had a compartment to themselves, and either 
 pair sat in a corner, with but a yard's space between, yet 
 each in its own world— the world which two souls and 
 bodies in love spin for themselves, as some insects spin their 
 cocoons. 
 
 "My dawtie," said the Master, "how I have yearned and 
 yearned for your sweet company, I cannot tell ye 1 Ye ha'e 
 been lang awa'," said he simply, "and I've never had a real 
 sweetheart but you." 
 
 " You dear, foolish man ! " murmured Aimee. 
 
 " And your father has troubled me with humming and 
 ha'ing about our marriage, and about your going away wi' 
 me. Tell me now, my dear, tell me out plain and clear, are 
 ye feared to go with me far over the sea to Andaman ? " 
 
THE MASTER IS EXAMINED. 315 
 
 " I only fear, my dear Master " 
 
 " But ye mustna call me that 1 " he exclaimed. " I'm not 
 ' Master ' to you ! I would be but your man, and your 
 trusted fiere." 
 
 " You are my dear Master I " said she, with a pretty wil- 
 fulness. " I will say it ! I like it ! Oh, mon ami, it is after 
 I have not seen you for a long time, and when I have seen 
 other men, that I know how good and noble andteautiful 
 you are ! " 
 
 " But ye mustna say that ! It's just rank idolatry I " But 
 she merely smiled up at him and plucked his beard ; and 
 he murmured, " God is gey good to me 1 But ye were going 
 to say ! " 
 
 " I was going to say, my dear Master, that when I am 
 alone I am just as if walking on the top of a wall I Oh, it 
 is not nice 1 I fear this side and that side ! But when I am 
 with you, and you hold my foolish little hand with your 
 strong one — strong and brown 1 strong and brown ! — that 
 has worked so much for your poor folk, that has made so 
 many things, and is so kind ! — oh, so kind I — then I fear 
 nothing, mon ami, and I go anywhere, holding your hand 
 always ! " 
 
 The Master could say nothing to that. He could but 
 stroke and caress the little trusting hand, while a lump 
 swelled in his throat and tears dimmed his eyes, and mur- 
 mur, when he had found a measure of voice, " Ye just ower- 
 whelm me wi' your goodness ! " 
 
 Thus they continued wrapt close in loving converse ; and 
 as they rattled on to Inverdoon, no kind of hint came of 
 what awaited them there, or of all that would happen ere 
 the sun went down. As they neared the town the air came 
 through the open windows in hot gusts, as if in panting 
 breaths from a fiery furnace distant but vast, and thunder 
 muttered miles away, as if a battle were in progress. But 
 these things moved them not at all. They still babbled 
 and dreamed of the future in close company, until they 
 rattled across the river and swept into the station of Inver- 
 doon. 
 
 Then came a change like a thunderbolt, 
 
316 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 The Master had but stepped from the train to the plat- 
 form when a police-offlcer touched his arm. 
 
 " You are, I think, James Hutcheon, of Ilkastane ? " 
 
 " I am,'' answered the Master. 
 
 " I have," said the officer, " a warrant for your arrest in 
 the Queen's name." 
 
 " Warrant ? Arrest ? The Queen ? " murmured the 
 Master in amazement. " But what's the meaning o' this, 
 sirs ? " He glanced about him ; he was cut oil from his 
 companions by a circle of policemen. His mind and senses 
 were in a mad whirl. He saw Aimee make a dash forward 
 to reach his side ; heard the Bailie's voice cry, " Go not near 
 that man ! I command you, girl ! " and saw him stand a 
 little way off, looking pale and angry. His heart surged 
 with resentment as he turned again to the officer, and said, 
 "I'd like fine to know what for I'm arrested." 
 
 There was a dangerous light in his eye, which tempted 
 the officer to say hurriedly : 
 
 " It will be best to come your ways quietly, Mr. Hutcheon. 
 The charge set down is treason-felony, but the Fiscal and 
 the Sherra'll inform ye all about it. It's late in the day, but 
 they're good enough to be set waiting for you — they look 
 upon the case as important enough for that — and there's 
 nae doubt they'll tak' a'thing into avisandum in their pre- 
 cognition." 
 
 "Lead on, then," said the Master, " and have done wi't, 
 for I have a hantle to do.'' 
 
 He said that to himself as much as to the ofiicer. Tor, 
 while his thought was whirling in^wonder as to the mean- 
 ing of this, and in suspicion as to the Bailie's conduct, he 
 insisted to himself that the whole matter was but a puzzling 
 and painful interlude which must be speedily got over that 
 he might pass on to the accomplishment of things of real 
 moment. Vaguely he was conscious of the Bailie's attempt 
 to reassure his family that this was only a harmless inquiry, 
 and of George Lepine's obstinate declaration that he and 
 his sister would at least follow and see what came of it ; 
 and then he was marched out of the station encompassed 
 by four officers. Arrived outside, he was surprised to ob- 
 
THE MASTER IS EXAMINED. 317 
 
 serve a large concourse of people, and amazed to discover 
 from the set of their eyes and the buzz that greeted his 
 appearance that he himself was the centre of curiosity. 
 He wondered to note among them, moreover, some of his 
 own Ilkastane folk, who looked dark and dour, while the 
 townsfolk shouted and laughed, or boo'd and hissed. There 
 was a cab in waiting, into which he was urged, in the com- 
 pany of the officer who arrested him, and two policemen ; 
 and resentment again surged in him with astonishment, 
 when, as he was driven off, he heard someone strike up the 
 song, " Wha the de'il ha'e we gotten for a king ! '' 
 
 The cab drew up at a side door of the old court-house, 
 and he was straightway conducted into a private room and 
 found himself in the presence of three serious men, who 
 looked upon him shrewdly. These, he presently learned, 
 were the Sheriff -Substitute, the Procurator-Fiscal, and a 
 clerk, who were waiting to take what is called in Scots law 
 " the Precognition " — to make, that is to say, a private and 
 preliminary examination as to whether there is ground for 
 prosecuting the charge upon which a person is arrested. 
 There were present only these important officials of the law, 
 himself, and the officers who conducted him ; and the gloom 
 and silence of that sombre, ancient, oak-panelled chamber 
 impressed him more with misgiving than would have an 
 open, crowded court. 
 
 The Sheriff-Substitute sat at the head of the table, calm, 
 silent, and attentive, while the Procurator-Fiscal stood with 
 certain papers in his hand, and began the examination 
 of the Master, and the clerk was ready with his pen to 
 make notes for the Declaration. First, the Procurator- 
 Fiscal formally asked the Master if he was named James 
 Hutcheon. 
 
 "That am I," answered the Master; "and if it please ye, 
 sirs, I'd like to hear whatna presence I am in and what's 
 the charge against me." 
 
 The Fiscal declared in whose presence he was, and set 
 forth the charge, namely, that he had treasonably conspired 
 to take out of the country certain of Her Majesty's subjects 
 for an unlawful purpose, and for the same purpose had 
 
318 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 fitted out a ship in warlike fashion. That was the purport 
 of the charge ; and he was formally challenged to say aught 
 that he would in reply to it, on the full understanding (of 
 which he was duly warned and admonished) that his 
 Declaration would be taken down by the clerk, and would 
 form part of any Indictment that might finally be made 
 against him. 
 
 " I am free to tell ye, sirs," answered the Master, " that 
 ye must have made — or that your informants ha'e made — 
 some daft mistake ; for all that I have done I have done by 
 the express order o' the Queen herself, with as great secrecy 
 and dispatch as I could contrive, and as Her Majesty com- 
 manded. And as for the arming o' the ship, there's but a 
 cutlash and a musket or twa, and maybe a brass popgun, 
 for protection's sake on a long voyage. I think that's all I 
 have to say about it." The Sheriff-Substitute demanded if 
 he did not know that the ship was really furnished with as 
 many arms and guns as would set up one of Her Majesty's 
 own men-o'-war. " No," replied the Master, with some mis- 
 giving, " I did not know that." 
 
 The two men of law exchanged glances, and the Fiscal 
 asked in what form the Queen's orders were conveyed. 
 
 " In a gey precise, official letter," answered the Master ; 
 " and here it is, if ye must see it.'' 
 
 The Fiscal received the precious document from Hutch- 
 eon's hand, and he and the Sheriff -Substitute together bent 
 over it, and read it, and conversed concerning it in low 
 tones, and with lifted eyebrows and smiling lips. When 
 the Fiscal stood upright, the Master extended his hand to 
 receive his letter back. 
 
 "You must leave this with us for the present, if you 
 please, Mr. Hutcheon,'' said the Fiscal. " But do you really 
 mean to say, Mr. Hutcheon, that it never came into your 
 mind to ask if this document were a forgery ? " 
 
 " Forgery ? What for should I think sic a paper a 
 forgery ? " he asked. 
 
 His voice sounded brave enough, but he turned pale to 
 the lips. It was absolutely the first time for him that the 
 document — the splendid charter of Ilkastane liberties — had 
 
THE MASTER IS EXAMINED. 319 
 
 been doubted. He did not yet doubt its authenticity him- 
 self, but he saw they doubted, and he understood, moreover, 
 from their smiles that they were inclined to pity his cre- 
 dulity ; and pity is a form of sympathy which a man like 
 tlie Master most passionately resents. 
 
 "What for," retorted the Sheriff-Substitute, speaking 
 with a note of impatience, " should you think it genuine ? 
 Had you any call to expect Her Majesty to communicate in 
 that way with you 'i " 
 
 Again the Master was conscious of having been dealt a 
 bewildering blow. But he recovered himself, and his mind 
 rose superior to these insinuations of doubt. 
 
 "I think, gentlemen,'' said he with quiet dignity, "ye 
 dinna rightly know who I am. The full name and title 
 ha'e been in abeyance since the troubles o' the Forty -five ; 
 I am commonly called the Master o' Hutcheon, but I am 
 truly the Lord Hutcheon o' that ilk. Doubtless Her Majesty, 
 being the fountain or well-head o' honour, minds on all her 
 auld nobility and baronage, and would ken who I was 
 whenever I wrote to her, as I did, anent the poortith and 
 oppression o' the Ilkastane weavers, to spier for her leave to 
 take them to the island o' Andaman. And so, ye under- 
 stand, that," said he, pointing to the paper still in the 
 Fiscal's hand, " appears to me the most seemly and natural, 
 and gracious and queen-like answer in the world." 
 
 Again the two men of law exchanged glances, as 
 who should say, "What is to be made of this mad busi- 
 ness ? " 
 
 " That is a most extraordinary story, Mr. Hutcheon," said 
 the Fiscal. 
 
 Both he and his colleague looked in pity on the Master, 
 respectful pity enough, but such pity as the Master could 
 not endure. 
 
 " It may seem a strange thing to you, gentlemen," he 
 broke forth, "wha ha'e been used only to the quillets and 
 quodlibets o' the law! I ha'e no acquaintance with the 
 causeys o' the town or the riddle-me-rees o' the Court-house. 
 I have 'bode aye among my own poor folk, and to me it 
 seems just as fine and natural as wakening in the morning ! 
 
320 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 But, since we're at it, I'll be glad if ye'll tell me what 
 reasons ye ha'e for thinking that paper a forgery." 
 
 "Apart from d, priori reasons, sir," said the Sheriff -Sub- 
 stitute, promptly, " which do not seem to appeal to you, we 
 have conclusive evidence that that paper is a forgery ; that 
 it is of the nature of what is called a practical joke ; that 
 your letter never went to the Queen, and that consequently 
 the Queen never wrote to you." 
 
 " If that is so " murmured the Master. 
 
 He could say no more. He appeared so overwhelmed 
 and bewildered with wonder and distress that the Sheriff- 
 Substitute continued with impatience : 
 
 " To be plain with you, Mr. Hutcheon, you are either the 
 most credulous of men, or there is more in this than we 
 have yet got at. Do you know a person named Fergus 
 O'Ehea?" 
 
 "I do," answered the Master. "He has been my right 
 hand in this business." 
 
 "And do you know he is an outlawed Chartist ? " 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " Do you think it is befitting a gentleman of your origins 
 should be associated with such a man ? " 
 
 " What for no ? " said the Master. " My own brother was 
 £in outlawed Chartist, and I was almost ane myself." 
 
 " Do you know a youth named Thomas Tamson ? " 
 ~ " Do you mean Hew's loon ? " 
 
 " Probably. Was he an assistant of yours ? " 
 
 The Master shook his head. Uncertainty was invading 
 him. 
 
 " No to my knowledge," said he. 
 
 " You seem to have trusted far too much, Mr. Hutcheon, 
 to that man O'Rhea," put in the Procurator-Fiscal. " Read 
 that; it was intended to come into your hand." 
 
 He gave him the letter which O'Rhea had dictated to 
 Tam Tamson. 
 
 The Master read, and flushed with sudden fire, and then 
 turned deadly pale ; but it was the white heat of rage that 
 consumed him. He read the letter a second time, and 
 handed it back to the Fiscal. 
 
THE MASTER IS EXAMINED. 321 
 
 " I see now ! I see ! " he said. 
 
 "Do you recog'nise the writing? " asked the Fiscal. 
 
 "No," answered the Master; "but I can hear in it the 
 voice of Fergus O'Rhea ! Has he got off with the ship? " he 
 suddenly demanded. 
 
 " No," answered the Fiscal, " we have taken care of that. 
 The ship is under arrest — as he would be, too, but he has as 
 yet evaded the officers." 
 
 The Master looked dazed. All his heaven and earth 
 seemed rushing to ruin about him. He put his hand 
 absently to his forehead, and then to his beard ; his action 
 was eloquent of the oppression of perplexity, and of the 
 desire to be rid of it. 
 
 " We are exceedingly sorry for you, Mr. Hutcheon," said 
 the Sheriff-Substitute. 
 
 " Oh, there's no need to be sorry for me, sirs," interrupted 
 the Master. " Be sorry rather for the poor folk that'll be 
 broken-hearted and ruined if this business is no carried 
 through 1 " 
 
 "And I am sorry," continued the Sheriff-Substitute, " I 
 caimot immediately discharge you. You must wait for the 
 arrest of the man O'Rhea. But if I am not mistaken, you'll 
 be safer in our keeping than if you were freely making your 
 way home to Ilkastane. Do you hear that ? " 
 
 Without there was a growling and muttering and rum- 
 bling, which might have been the voices of a great con- 
 course of people, or the sound of thunder. But a flash of 
 lightning illumined the sombre chamber, and the Master 
 thought it was thunder he heard. 
 
 " It's no a fire-flaught," said he, " or a brash o' thunder, 
 or a downpour would ever keep me off the road, sirs." 
 
 The formality of reading and signing the Declaration 
 being then gone through, the Fiscal made a sign to the 
 police-oflacers, and the Master was led out, scarcely aware 
 that he was being conducted to prison. 
 
322 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE MOSS. 
 
 The side door of the Oourt-liouse, by which, the Master 
 was led out, opened into a narrow street, or rather lane, and 
 a few paces off, at an elbow where the lane turned at right 
 angles, was the entrance to the ordinary prison. When he 
 appeared descending the steps between his guards, he was 
 greeted with a roar of derision and rage by a ragged, reck- 
 less crowd that surged in the High Street in front of the 
 Court-house and dribbled into the lane. As soon as it was 
 known that the prisoner was come out, the crowd poured 
 into the lane, sweeping the Master and his guards before 
 it, on to the door of the prison, with hoarse, savage cries 
 of " See till him ! Euined the weavers, he has — lock and 
 stock ! Him a king ! Hoo 1 the muckle gype ! " Stones 
 hurtled and crashed. One stone struck the Master on the 
 back and another on the cheek, making the blood flow. 
 He turned, and recognised with pain and sorrow the 
 lowering faces of some of his Ilkastane folk. But 
 " No, no ; I will not believe they did it ! " he declared to 
 himself. 
 
 He and his guards had reached the elbow in which was 
 situated the prison door, when there suddenly came a change 
 in the cuiTent of the crowd. Those who had been behind 
 were pushed and crushed backward with a new impulse, 
 and Hutoheon and his gu.ards were furiously set upon by a 
 fresh set of violent ruffians. At least, Hutcheon thought he 
 was set upon, and he struggled to release himself. 
 
 " Let-a-be ! " a familiar voice panted in his ear. " Gi'e 
 leg-bail, Maister, and aff wi' ye ! The black villain O'Ehea 
 is in Ilkastane ! " 
 
 The Master recognised the voice and person of the faith- 
 ful Steven ; and then, his vision being assured, he saw that 
 Steven and the stalwart ex-soldier, Donald M'Kay, were 
 hanging on to his guards, and he did not need the renewed 
 urgency of Steven's cry, " Eun, Maister ! run ! " to take 
 
THE HOUSE ON THE MOSS. 323 
 
 advantage of his sudden freedom. The mere hint of the 
 necessity for action was enough to set his blood a-tingle and 
 his wits to work. He shot away down the bend of the lane. 
 He was about to emerge from it upon another street, when 
 the crowd met him, sweeping round from the High Street, 
 as if aware of his escape, and resolved to intercept it. On 
 seeing him they rushed forward with a roar, and he doubled 
 back a little way upon his steps and shot into a close which 
 seemed to open to receive him. His progress in the narrow 
 and unfamiliar way was uncertain, and he was surprised 
 that no one pursued him, that not even the voice of the 
 raging mob came to his ears. Had he seen and heard the 
 reason, it would have filled his soul with confidence and 
 made his heart sing for joy. 
 
 The ragged, mouthing mob was kept back by a woman. 
 From Heaven knows where, a little lady, bright and beauti- 
 ful as a bird, but fierce as a tigress robbed of her whelps, had 
 flashed into the front and had dared them to come a step 
 further. 
 
 " For what do you rage at him so ? " she cried. " He is a 
 noble gentleman 1 You ! — you are beasts and brutes ! He 
 have worked for you ! — he have lived poor for you ! — he 
 have given you his money ! — to you, or else to those like 
 you I And you rage at him ! — you stone him ! — you make 
 him bleed ! He is alone the good man in all your stupid, 
 hard, hard town, and you treat him so ! Oh, you canaille ! 
 You are not men ! He is a noble gentleman ! You ! — oh, 
 you are brutes, beasts ! Go back ! Go home ! " 
 
 The fury and beauty of the brilliant little lady gave the 
 crowd pause ; they were rough, but they were not without 
 good-nature. They inquired of each other who she was, and 
 one and another said, " Wha ever she is, she's a bonny ane 
 and plucky ane ! " At length someone said, " She's Bailie 
 Lippen's dochter," and at mention of the Bailie's name the 
 crowd began sullenly to retire. Presently she was found by 
 her brother and Elsie M'Cree. 
 
 "He must have got off by now,'' said George. " So we" 
 had better go home." 
 
 " I will go home, George," said his sister, " only if he has 
 
324 THE KIKG OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 gone home ! And when we arrive at Ilkastane you will 
 make sure that he is safe." 
 
 The Master had escaped the immediate clutch of the law 
 and the assault of the mob. He knew the town well 
 enough to get on the way to Ilkastane by the least frequented 
 streets ; and he swung along at a great pace, in a lather of 
 heat. As he neared Ilkastane, the storm, which had been 
 gathering sulkily and muttering the whole day, broke in a 
 deluge of rain. He merely buttoned his coat and drew his 
 bonnet over his brows, and pressed forward with greater 
 speed. 
 
 Why did he thus press forward to Ilkastane as to a goal ? 
 It was not because, like a beast of the chase, he sought his 
 lair for rest and concealment. Neither shelter nor conceal- 
 ment was in all his desire. He was furiously urging himself 
 forward, he scarcely knew why. He merely was aware that 
 he had no thought of yielding to the apparent ruin that had 
 been wrought in his designs. He meant to do something, 
 he knew not what, except that he was resolved first of all to 
 stand face to face with the villain O'Ehea. The spirit of 
 his fighting forbears was slowly being roused in him, and 
 would surely lead him to do things that might surprise his 
 past self ; but the immediate end to which it was urging 
 him was vengeance on the traitor. 
 
 The rain poured, the lightning flashed, and the thunder 
 hurtled overhead like the emptying of gigantic loads of 
 stone ; and still he marched on, searching himself with 
 many fiery thoughts. He had been blind ; he had been a 
 fool ; he had spent himself, and his brother's money, in the 
 cause of his people, and they had risen against him, and in 
 their furious ingratitude had cast stones at him ; but no, he 
 would not blame them, poor things ! for, if no more was to 
 be heard of Andaman, then for them the future was only 
 black, hopeless night ; and oh, he had trusted far too much 
 to O'Rhea, and had abandoned himself too much to idle 
 dreams of true love, and visions of perfect prosperity. 
 Now— his heart fell with the weight and coldness of lead — 
 all was to begin over again ! Even his letter to the Queen 
 
THE HOUSE ON THE MOSS. 325 
 
 liad not gone ! Oli, that God Almighty would hitervene in 
 the righteous cause ! But on ! It would still be folly to let 
 reflection eat out the heart of action. 
 
 He reached Ilkastane, and walked right on into O'Ehea's 
 shanty. The door was open, and in the passage he came 
 upon Kitty sitting on a stool with her head covered, and 
 rocking herself to and fro in terror of the storm. 
 
 " Oh, the wrath o' God ! " she moaned. " The wrath o' 
 God ! The terrible wrath o' God upon miserable Ilkastane 
 sinners ! " 
 
 " Where is he ? " demanded the Master. She did not heed 
 him. He shook her impatiently. "Come, Kitty woman, 
 whaur's your man ? Whaur's O'Rhea ? " 
 
 She answered without uncovering her head. 
 
 " Oh, him and me and a' the bonny Chairtist lads are to 
 be aff in a gran' ship the night ! And he's just awa' out a 
 bit some gate to fin' the little loon he's sae ta'en up wi' ! . . . 
 I see naething in him mysel' ! " 
 
 The Master scarcely heard her last words. He was out of 
 the shanty, and up the burnside, taking the only way to the 
 house on the Moss. 
 
 The first burst of fury of the storm had passed, passed 
 over Ilkastane and Inverdoon to the sea, but all things 
 waited as in hushed suspense for its renewal. The Master 
 strode on in the middle of the road, urged by two insistent, 
 hot desires — to come face to face with O'Rhea as soon as 
 might be, and to take the boy from him — and the silent, 
 dripping trees and bushes seemed to listen and wonder as he 
 went by. Rattling quarry-carts passed him, and clay-soiled 
 quarry-men returning from work, with their coats and cans 
 slung over their shoulders, gave him " good-e'en " and 
 looked with suspicion on his soaked, disordered clothes and 
 his bleeding cheek ; but he held on without heeding them. 
 As he passed through Freedom, gusts of wind swept down 
 and blew the rushes and the water a livid white under the 
 lowering sky. On he passed into the way through the wood 
 of dark, eerie-sounding firs. He was in the midst of the 
 wood when the storm swept down again with a crash and 
 a roar. The firs tossed, and soughed and moaned, and the 
 
326 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 streaming maiden-hair foliage of the silver birks was blown 
 and torn. Soon the burn in the hollow became a "spate," 
 foaming and raging over bank and linn ; and the Master 
 was so drenched that his boots squelched as he walked. It 
 was all so dark and hideous in the wood, that there was 
 danger of losing the way ; and he peered anxiously on this 
 side and on that, so that no creature might pass unrecog- 
 nised ; and still the lightning flashed, the thunder burst, and 
 the rain poured, and hissed, and roared. 
 
 He was out of the wood at length, and on the open moss,* 
 where the storm swept on him with such fury that he could 
 do no more for a minute than merely stand up against it. 
 With an efi'ort he made headway, but his going had to be 
 exceedingly careful ; for he was almost as sore bested as 
 was Christian in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. The 
 darkness caused by the storm and the streaming atmosphere 
 kept him from clearly seeing the way ; and he knew that on 
 the one hand lay a very deep ditch, and on the other dan- 
 gerous quags — such quags as looked like firm turf, but which 
 had often so completely swallowed up men and beasts that 
 they had never been seen again. And it was so that, as he 
 went on, when he lifted up his foot to go forward, he ofttimes 
 knew not where or upon what he should set it next. 
 
 Still he pressed on, and the great desolate moss opened 
 out vaguely under the dissolving firmament, showing dark 
 peat, white cotton weeds like specks of light, and sullen 
 phosphorescent pools as far as the eye could penetrate ; and 
 still the lightning flashed, the thunder rolled and crashed, 
 and the rain poured with vicious hiss. At length a dull 
 glow appeared, and he stumbled directly towards it, with his 
 feet now tripping in tough heather roots, and now sinking 
 in soft, squagy spots — on, till he discovered that the glow 
 was that of a peat-flre shining tlu-ough the open door of the 
 house he sought. 
 
 The Master lingered an instant on the threshold, noted 
 a coat steaming over the back of a chair on one side of the 
 fire, the boy Hamish a little way off on the other side, 
 
 * Moor, or, more commonly, bog. 
 
THE HOUSE ON THE MOSS. 327 
 
 seated on the bare earthen floor crying, and O'Rhea in his 
 shirt-sleeves sprawling abroad on the table well away from 
 the heat. There was no one else to be seen, and O'Rhea was 
 speaking in a coaxing voice. 
 
 "Come, come, sonnie," he said, "a brave young sailor 
 like you greeting ! In an hour or two it'll be ' Heave and 
 a-wash,' and away we sail, and you'll be as merry as a grig ! " 
 He looked at his watch. " In half an hour we must be out 
 of this, storm or no ! " 
 
 " Ye'U have to reckon wi' me first," said the Master, step- 
 ping forward. 
 
 With lip hanging in astonishment, O'Rhea stared a 
 moment on the drenched figure and the blood-stained cheek, 
 which all the rain had not been able to wash clean, and then 
 he murmured : 
 
 "Hutcheon!" 
 
 "Ay," said the Master, "that same. The Hutcheon ye 
 have heflummed and befooled ! " 
 
 O'Ehea's complexion turned grey beneath his extensive 
 ruddiness, but he stood up and faced the Master, and looked 
 as helpless, harmless, and innocent as can be imagined. 
 
 " What's the meaning of this, Hutcheon ? What have I 
 done ? " He extended his hands as if calling him to witness 
 that they were clean ; but his restless eyes showed his adroit 
 wits were at work to find a plausible explanation of their 
 meeting thus. "Ah, I see," he cried, and he slapped his 
 leg, " this is the Bailie's doing ! He has got the ship ar- 
 rested ; he has tried to get me arrested ; and I suppose he 
 has brought you back to get you arrested tool" The 
 Master's steady gaze wavered a little. Certainly it was true 
 tliat the Bailie's order had brought him back a day earlier 
 than had first been arranged. O'Rhea perceived his ad- 
 vantage, and rashly urged it. He took a step forward and 
 laid his fingers on the Master's arm, persuasively saying, 
 "Just let's talk this over, Hutcheon, and try to under- 
 stand it." 
 
 But the Master drew away from his touch ; and his hand 
 flew out and smote the traitor a sounding smack on the 
 cheek. 
 
328 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 " Keep your hands off me ! " he said. " Fergus they ca' 
 ye, but Judas should be your name ! " 
 
 O'Rhea reeled under the force and unexpectedness of the 
 blow. He leaned one hand on the table, and gasped under 
 his breath : 
 
 " By God, you'll repent this ! By G-od, you will ! " And 
 even while he stood, the flerce sting of the Master's fingers 
 rose upon his cheek in hideous weals. 
 
 " Let's have done wi' your lies ! " said the Master. " I 
 know them all ! — all ! And into the pit ye digged for me 
 ye're going to fall yourself ! And see to the righteousness 
 o't ! " he cried, pointing to the terrified boy. " He comes o' 
 your treachery to a woman, and it's befitting that your being 
 here to seek him should end in your delivery into my hands ! 
 And now you're to come wi' me, and answer for the whole 
 business afore the Sherra ! " 
 
 " Royal as ever, Hutcheon ! " sneered O'Rhea. " Royal 
 as ever ! By G — d ! what a king you would make ! But may 
 I humbly inquire how your Majesty would propose to make 
 me go with you, in case I'm not inclined ? " 
 
 ''Bring me that hank o' plough line that's ahint ye, 
 laddie," he said to Hamish. Hamish brought the rope with 
 alacrity at the Master's word, skirting wide of O'Rhea the 
 while ; and O'Rhea, seeing him, muttered, " D — n the lit- 
 tle sorning cub!" "Now," continued the Master, "ye're 
 to be tied up wi' this, and when the gude-man comes 
 home ye'll be driven into the town like a swine to the 
 flesher ! " 
 
 "So be it!" said O'Rhea, standing erect on his feet, and 
 looking a most formidable tower of strength. He snatched 
 his coat from the back of the chair, and fumbled with it to 
 put it on. 
 
 " Do not resist me, you traitor scum ! " cried the Master, 
 his white heat of rage blazing up for an instant. " Do not 
 daur me ! I ha'e no weapons but my hands, but I'll break 
 ye to bits ! " 
 
 O'Rhea had got his coat on. He set his legs wide 
 straddling all across the space between the table and the 
 fire. Like Apollyon, he was void of fear, and full of the lust 
 
THK HOUSE OX THE MOSS. 339 
 
 of life. He vauntingly snapped his fingers, and defied the 
 Master. 
 
 " I swear," he roared, " by all the gods that ever were, or 
 will be, that I am delighted to meet you in this plain way, 
 and to tell you plainly about yourself. You are a ruckle of 
 conceit and idiocy, and I've fooled you to the top of your 
 bent for my amusement ! I ! — I have done it ! " And he 
 rapped with the knuckles of his left hand on the table. 
 " You know that ! But let me tell you something you don't 
 know. Your brother Oeorge is not dead, and you have 
 spent his money ! His money was my money ; and I've 
 got most of it — in the way of a ship, arms, stores, and a score 
 or two of blackguard sailors and soldiers to do my bidding ! 
 Understand that ! That I'd have done in any case, and let 
 you alone ! But you've insulted me twice over, and you've 
 smacked my face, and now, by G — d, I'll spill your heart's 
 blood 1" 
 
 There was a flash of steel in his hand, and with both 
 feet he sped his riotous bulk and strength upon the Master, 
 who was little prepared to receive him ; for though he had 
 at first watched his enemy with gleaming eye and set mouth, 
 the hint that his brother still lived had smitten him with 
 confusion. They rocked and strove together, and the boy 
 screamed; for to him it appeared as nothing less than a 
 realisation of the picture in the Bible of Samson contending 
 with the lion. The sobriety of the Master's life, and his 
 muscles of steel, soon told. He was wounded somewhere, 
 but his wound had only pricked him to greater fierceness of 
 temper. He had caught the hand that held the knife ; there 
 was a crack, and a quick cry of agony from O'Rhea — " Oh, 
 my God ! "—and the knife fell with a clatter on the table. 
 Then the Master put out all his strength, heaved his antag- 
 onist away from him, and lifting him up with a mighty 
 effort dunched him to the floor, and stamped his foot on him. 
 
 " The rope, laddie ! " panted the Master. 
 
 But in the struggle O'Rhea had got to the door side of 
 
 the Master, and when he was thrown her lay but a foot or 
 
 two from the threshold. At mention of the rope he wrenched 
 
 himself forward, crouched upon his feet, and sprang into 
 
 22 
 
330 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 the darkness and the wet of the storm. With a cry of rage 
 the Master shot out after him. The bulky figure was but 
 half a dozen yards before him, racing straight out into the 
 moss, and he raced after it. But O'Rhea was running for 
 life and freedom, and he drew steadily away from the Mas- 
 ter, upon whom there came suddenly a fear to freeze his 
 marrow. O'Rhea was dashing into the most dangerous part 
 of the moss ! " 
 
 "Come back!" he cried, with no thought but that of 
 saving a creature from death, and raced on with new 
 energy. 
 
 At length he stood stUl. O'Rhea had disappeared, and 
 he dared not go farther. He thought he heard a wild cry, 
 and listened. He heard only the swish of the rain, the ex- 
 hausted rumbling of the storm in the remote east, and the 
 melancholy cry of a peewit winging over the moss. 
 
 " If so," he murmured grimly to himself, " he's weel 
 awa' ! " 
 
 He lingered a little while, still listening, and letting the 
 rain beat on his bare hot head, and then he returned to the 
 house. There he found Hamish sobbing and trembling at 
 the door. 
 
 "Poor loon," he murmured, "this has been an awfu' 
 sight for you. But now we maun baud awa' hame. He 
 may get ower the moss, and be in the town afore us." He 
 picked up O'Rhea's knife from the table, saying, "This 
 blade may be handy," put on his bonnet, gave his hand to 
 the boy, and left the house. 
 
 In the brief interval the rain had much abated and a 
 golden glory of sunset was growing in the west, and the 
 birds in the remote fir wood were gratefully piping up their 
 evening song. He took off his bonnet, softened and sub- 
 dued. Tears filled his eyes. 
 
 " Grod forgi'e me," he murmured, " for I am a man of 
 blood," and he flung O'Rhea's knife far into the moss. 
 " Ay, ay. . . . The Lord is not in the wind, nor yet in the 
 lightning, nor in the thunder, but in the still small voice 
 that speaks in a man's heart. Come, my laddie, ye're tired 
 and broken." 
 
EXODUS. 331 
 
 He put the weaxy, sobbing boy on his back, and strode 
 away back to encounter what might lay before him in 
 Ilkastane. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 EXODUS. 
 
 As the Master made his weary way back to Ilkastane, his 
 thoughts were hi a turmoil of amazement. No more than 
 two or three hours had passed since he had sat with his 
 sweetheart in the train, but what a cataclysm of change in 
 the interval ! It seemed to be scarcely the same world in 
 which he now lived and moved and had his being ! The 
 dripping woods and the purged air were charged with most 
 delightful scents, and were vocal with the gushing songs of 
 birds, but they brought no joy to his heart, as such things 
 were wont to do — all that he loved, all that he hoped for, 
 lay broken and ruined ! The only invigorating and cheering 
 hope in all his waste of thought and feeling was that his 
 brother might be still alive — alive in some mysterious way, 
 a captive, perhaps, in a foreign land, but still alive ! And 
 while he thought a strange thing happened. At the contact, 
 as it were, of that living, smiling hope, the other hopes, de- 
 sires, and plans, which had seemed as dead, began to stir and 
 swell with life, and as the prophet in his vision of the valley 
 of dry bones heard with amazement a noise and a shaking, 
 and saw the bones come together and the flesh and sinews 
 come upon them till the breath of God entered into the 
 bodies and they stood upon their feet " an exceeding great 
 army," so the Master of Hutcheon perceived with joy his 
 broken hopes and prospects rise as if from the dead, piece 
 themselves again completely together, and stand up a con- 
 nected, organic whole. O'Rhea had not been the destroyer 
 he had hoped to be ; indeed, there was little more necessary 
 than that he should take the place that night which O'Rhea 
 
332 THE KIXG OF AXDA3IAX. 
 
 had designed for himself, and the Argosy, full-freighted, 
 might yet have her sails spread to the breeze before the dawn 
 of a new day. So cheered and refreshed was he that he was 
 inclined to cry, like the pilgrim ia his final thrust against 
 Apollyon, "Eejoice riot against me, O mine enemy! for, 
 when I fall, I shall arise." 
 
 He had been slack in his duty; he had been over-credu- 
 lous, and too trusting ; he had been befooled and humili- 
 ated, without a doubt (and again his pride rose fiercely 
 in revolt), but, surely, he had been put to a fiery trial dur- 
 ing the last few hours. Now he was awake and alert ; he 
 saw all the difficulties and dangers that lay in his going 
 forward, and he did not blench. It was no light task, he 
 perceived, to take himself and his ship from under the 
 arrest of the law, to summon his sweetheart and her brother 
 to his side, to arouse his stupefied following and his disheart- 
 ened, if not despairing, folk — and, withal, to avoid and de- 
 feat the vigilance of those in authority, and to get all his 
 company and their impedimenta " clear off " and afloat 
 within a few hours. He no longer could think he had the 
 Queen's commission to act, but he believed he had the counte- 
 nance of God Almighty, and how could he, without shame 
 and confusion of soul, reduce and dash to the ground, like 
 water completely spilt, the hopes of the folk which he had 
 raised, and etherealised, and illumined, till they appeared 
 to enwrap the seventh heaven ? In the future there proba- 
 bly lay no Andaman, but there surely waited for them 
 another island, as gracious and as smiling; and there was 
 his brother to find, the alert and cheerful brother whose 
 words once more sounded in his heart — " There^s hamely 
 land and air in the icorld yet!" 
 
 " I'll do it !" he said to himself. " And this night I " 
 By the time he reached Ilkastane the sky was quite clear, 
 and when he turned into the loan he saw that many of its 
 inhabitants — mostly women — were loitering in the fresh 
 air, gossiping in sullen, earnest groups. The dejection of 
 their manner, and their disregard of their children, who, 
 having dammed up the rain-swollen gutters, were wading 
 in the pools and noisily sailing chips to Andaman, smote 
 
EXODUS. 333 
 
 him anew with the necessity for rousing action. It did not 
 please him that Hew Tamson stood tall and notable in the 
 midst of the most considerable of the groups, nor that, as he 
 approached, every group took the alarm, like a concourse of 
 geese, and sharply dissolved and disappeared in the closes 
 and doorways, so that as he passed no face was to be seen, 
 and no greeting nor salutation uttered. Yet he had no sus- 
 picion that Ilkastane was on the point of rising against 
 him. 
 
 As soon as he was in his garret he began the prepara- 
 tions which he had already drawn up in some order in his 
 mind. To stay himself against the exertions of the next 
 few hours, he ate some oat-cake, and took a draught of 
 water (which he strengthened with a dash of usquebagh), 
 instructing Hamish the while in certain things he wished 
 him to do. 
 
 " Now, Hamish, laddie," said he, " I'm going to trust ye 
 just the same as if ye were a grown man. Run first to the 
 Bailie's house and say ye want a word wi' Maister George. 
 Say naething afore the Bailie, hut when ye get George by 
 his lone tell him, ' The Maister needs ye this minute ! And 
 bring your sister and Elsie M'Cree along, and sic things as 
 ye can carry, for this very night must we be off to sea ! ' 
 Can ye mind on that? And syne find Steven, Wilson, 
 and the rest o' them that are o' my Council — ye're my secre- 
 tary, and ye ha'e their names — and bid them come to me 
 this minute. And last o' a', gang to the stickit minister, 
 and bring him here yoursel', drunk or sober ! And now, 
 awa' wi' ye 1 " 
 
 Hutcheon himself then began to put a few things to- 
 gether — not many, because in the situation in which he was 
 he could not embarrass himself or his people with baggage, 
 and because, moreover, Hamish had reported to him a say- 
 ing which O'Ehea had dropped, namely, that proper cloth- 
 ing of all sorts, both for himself and his blackguards, had 
 already been stowed on board. He was thus occupied 
 when heavy, hurried footsteps were heard on the stairs, and 
 Steven and Donald M'Kay, after a hasty tap, burst in upon 
 him. 
 
33i THE KING' OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 " By the Lord Harry ! but we're in for't, Maister ! " ex- 
 claimed Steven. "They're a' coming to rabble and stane 
 ye ! They've been birling the bree a' the way hame frae 
 the toon ; and the wives that ha vena are waur than the 
 men!" 
 
 "The de'il's in them a' ! " said Donald M'Kay. " They're 
 just like the swine that ran down a steep place in the 
 Bible ! " 
 
 "Hew Tamson's been at them wi' his clavers!" said 
 Steven. " That's what it is ! It was him that set them aff 
 into the toon wi' telling them that it was a' up wi' Andaman, 
 and that you and O'Rhea were to be ta'en up for some fule's 
 crime or other ! They've heard ye're come back ! . . . And 
 hark ye ! They're comin' ! " 
 
 There was a distant subdued roar, which sounded at first 
 like the noise of loosened waters, but which soon declared 
 itself the utterance of human excitement and rage, thrilling 
 the nerves as no other sound can. The Master had already 
 heard it close to his ear in the town, and his expression of 
 countenance became set and stern. 
 
 " Let them come ! " said he. " I'll sort them this time ! " 
 
 He found an old pistol, and the switch with which he 
 had administered punishment to Tamson. 
 
 " For guid sake, Maister ! " said Steven, standing for once 
 stiff and appalled, " dinna shoot ! " 
 
 " Shoot ! " exclaimed the Master. " Wha says I'm going 
 to shoot ? This is a harmless thing enough. It's no the 
 flash, man, that makes folk feared ; it's the thought o't 
 coming ! " 
 
 " Let's gang doon and bar the door, Donald ! " said 
 Steven. 
 
 " De'il a door shall be barred ! " said the Master. " We'll 
 gang doon whenever they're here I They're just like a lot o' 
 orra loons, and if they dinna behave them they must ha'e 
 their paiks ! " * 
 
 " Demmit, sir ! " said Steven, " I'm an auld sodger, and ye 
 ha'e made me chief o' the Native Contingent, or I wouldna 
 
 * Paiks — Beating. 
 
EXODUS. 335 
 
 preshume to offer advice to my shuperior oflficer ! But 
 demmit, sir, keep close inside your entrenchments ! Ony 
 way," he urged, seeing the Master unmoved, "bide till 
 Donald and me ha'e a keek at them ! " 
 
 The roar of many voices burst into the close, and a stone 
 or other missile crashed on the window. 
 
 "Let me byl" said the Master, twisting Steven aside, 
 and descending the stair, followed by both the old soldiers. 
 
 There was a sullen hesitating rumble of execration when 
 he appeared, and sporadic cries of " Here he is ! . . . Down 
 wi' him ! . . . Out wi' the traitor ! " And then above all 
 was heard the voice of Tamson, who stood tall in the midst 
 of the rabble, " Ye'd better gi'e up, Mr. Hutcheou, and we'll 
 be good eneugh to tak' ye back to the Fiscal oursel's ! " at 
 which there was a mirthless guffaw. 
 
 " Silence 1 " cried the Master, and there was a fierce vibra- 
 tion in his voice such as the folk had never heard before. 
 " We ha'e no time to waste ! One traitor ye'll never see 
 again — I mean the villain O'Rhea — and another we'll soon 
 ha'e done wi' ! Steven and Donald, gang an keep the mouth 
 o' the close that naebody pass ye ! — and. Hew Tamson, stand 
 out ! Dinna hide ahint the women ! " 
 
 Hew Tamson at the first uproariously laughed, but the 
 Master raised his empty pistol and pointed it at him. 
 There was something so deliberate and unflinching in the 
 action, and such terrible, consuming anger in the master's 
 fa«e, that a palpable shudder ran through the rabble. 
 
 " Eh, sirs I " a woman murmured to her neighbour, 
 " there's murder in his face." 
 
 Tamson clearly had the same impression and the same 
 thought. His loud laugh sank to something like a whimper, 
 his red skin became as blanched as that of the beast he so 
 notably resembled, and, with his eyes fixed in terror on the 
 pistol, he slowly came forward. 
 
 " Rob Taggart," said the Master, addressing a yoimg man 
 well to the front, " hand over that bonnie rope ye ha'e ! 
 And Steven and Donald, come here and tie me up that 
 swine. Rope him weel, till I see what's to be done wi' 
 him! . . . And Rob, stand ye out!— and Tam Lamont. 
 
336 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 Come your ways, or it'll be the waur for ye ! " He covered 
 them with the threat of the pistol, and out they stepped, 
 looking exceeding frightened. "Now," cried the Master, 
 " wha will tie me them up ? They ha'e both been to the fore 
 in this ado, and I maun mak' them siccar for good be- 
 haviour ! " Two young men stepped forward, who were not 
 only of Ilkastane but of the Master's own immediate follow- 
 ing. " Good for you ! " said Hutcheon. " I thought my 
 Andamaners could ha'e little to do wi' this ! " In his heart 
 of hearts he believed no such thing, but for very shame he 
 kept his mind averted from their treachery. " Tie them wi' 
 their own napkins or onything, and bundle them into the 
 weaving-shop there ! And now, ye fause, sorning limmers ! " 
 he cried, raising his head, and bending on the crowd a look 
 of deadly severity, " I ha'e a word to say to ye ! Because ye 
 ha'e seen me mostly a quiet man, ye ha'e mista'en me ! You 
 and others ha'e daured to set yoursel's against me ! " At the 
 sound of his voice, and under his lofty, blighting look, they 
 shivered, and wondered that they had ever mistaken him. 
 " You, and others that ha'e misguided ye, ha'e done your 
 best to ruin the business ye well kenned I was bent on ! 
 But now, this minute, ye'll change a' that ! Ye'U no mak' 
 another cheep o' disturbance ! — and ye'll set to and help 
 the folk that are going awa' wi' me to get aff this very night ! 
 Ye'll do that, or, as sure as God made me and gave me 
 authority, I'll hang the three I ha'e tied up, and two-three 
 mair o' ye ! I ha'e made short wark o' the traitor O'Ehea, 
 and I will o' you I " At the hint of the terrible O'Rhea's 
 fate the crowd exchanged looks of fear and horror. " And 
 to my Andamaners a word," continued the Master. " Dinna 
 cumber your hands wi' useless things. Ye'll find a' ye need 
 on board the ship ; and be ready to set off wi' me in an 
 hour ! And if there's ony at this last hour feared to gang, 
 let them come to me at ance and they'll get a bounty o' a 
 pound for the trouble they've been put to ! Now, off wi' ye, 
 and set to ! " 
 
 And the crowd speedily dissolved, murmuring to each 
 other, " Eh, sirs, but he's an awfu' man ! Wha'd ha' thought 
 it?" 
 
EXODUS. 337 
 
 After that signal victory over the rahhle the wavering 
 and the timid came forward again. The King's Council as- 
 sembled about the King ; no one cried off from the bargain 
 of Andaman, and preparations went on apace. In a little 
 while Hamish returned with the minister, who had engaged 
 to accompany the expedition, and who now appeared with 
 his wardrobe tied up in a napkin under one arm, his Virgil 
 tucked under the other, and a volume or two peeping from 
 his pockets. Hamish reported that George Lepine and his 
 female company would arrive as soon as the Bailie had gone 
 to his room at half-past ten. 
 
 In the event, George came close on the heels of Hamish, 
 accompanied by Aimee and Elsie M'Cree. All three looked 
 resolute, but anxious, and Aimee wore a look of enthusiasm 
 which her companions lacked. The Master drew her a little 
 aside to press her hand. She surreptitiously kissed it. 
 
 " Oh, my dear Master, you are safe ! " she murmured. 
 
 " And you're no feared now to go ? " he asked. 
 
 " Feared ? No ! " she answered. " I am feared of noth- 
 ing with you ! And I will go with you to the end of the 
 world ! " 
 
 The Master's only answer was a renewed pressure of the 
 hand, and the words — which he uttered with intention — 
 " There's a minister going wi' us." 
 
 Then the Master and George and the Council consulted 
 together, and a happy thought was hit upon. It was an 
 anxious consideration how the women and children were to 
 be got over the weary way to the ship : why should not the 
 Bailie be made to contribute his aid to carry them there ? 
 The Bailie's Hargate Mill was but a little way off, and the 
 lorries and big Clydesdale horses that drew his manufactures 
 into the town were stabled there ; it was therefore settled 
 that George should go on to the mill with several Ilkastane 
 men who were not Andamaners, and get the lorries ready 
 to carry the women and bairns. 
 
 Thus it was arranged, and thus it was done. In less than 
 an hour, five lorries, drawn by big grey Clydesdales, rolled 
 down the loan. The women and weans and the children 
 were packed on them, with their small array of necessary 
 
338 THE KING OP ANDAMAN, 
 
 luggage, and the usual coverings of the piles of cloth were 
 drawn over them, so that the lorries might appear merely to 
 be loaded in their ordinary way. That done, the whole 
 pilgrimage was ready to set out — notable among the men 
 and the few women that followed the lorries afoot being 
 Kitty M'Cree — whom her father had prevailed to come only 
 by lying to her and assuring her that her "man" was 
 gone on before — and the three bound captives, who were 
 being conveyed as far as the ship for the sake of se- 
 curity. 
 
 It was then half -past eleven, and the Master was eager to 
 reach the water-corner of Strang's shipyard at midnight ; for 
 Haniish had told him of the arrangement which O'Khea had 
 disclosed to meet his blackguard sailors and soldiers there 
 at that hour. It was absolutely necessary to face and sub- 
 due to his purpose the sailors, at least ; for how was the ship 
 to be got out of the harbour and navigated without them ? 
 The Master discussed the matter with his friends, and several 
 wished to accompany him to prevail on the sailors. But the 
 Master refused their offers of aid. 
 
 "No," he said, "I'll go my lone. It's best. We're a' 
 ower few to frighten them, and I must trust to being able to 
 persuade them." 
 
 So he marched off ahead of the whole company, who 
 were to take a lonelier and more circuitous route than that 
 which he chose. When he was setting o£F, however, Haniish 
 set up such a cry of grief and desolation that he was fain to 
 take him along with him. For the sake of speed he set the 
 boy on his back. 
 
 When he had got on his own road, he stopped an instant 
 and looked back on the pilgrimage — the string of grey 
 horses and white-covered waggons, and the dark procession 
 on foot — all trudging steadily and silently forward on the 
 bare, lonely road in the mystic twilight which in the north 
 pervades the darkest hour of a midsummer night. 
 
 "It looks gey strange and eerie! "he murmured. "A' 
 going out frae their auld homes — going out in faith, and no 
 kenning what's afore us ! Poor things ! . . . Lord, Lord, it 
 seems more than I can manage ! . . . But we'll gang for- 
 
EXODDS. 339 
 
 ward, laddie ! " he said in a firmer, more cheerful tone, and 
 he strode on again. 
 
 On, on he paced through the calm, silent, fresh night, 
 and at length he turned the comer of Strang's ship- 
 yard, and braced himself to meet O'Rhea's blackguardly- 
 crew. He was still armed only with his empty pistol 
 and his switch, but he had a firm, fearless mind. He 
 spied a tarry-breeks lurking in the shadows, and he went 
 up to him. 
 
 "You know me," said the Master. "Tak' a look at 
 me.'' 
 
 "Ay," said the sailor, " I ken ye fine. Ye're him they ca' 
 the Maister.'' 
 
 "Ye're on the outlook for Fergus O'Rhea?" said the 
 Master. 
 
 "Maybe," was the guarded answer. 
 
 " Tut ! D'ye imagine I dinna know the haill business o' 
 your arrangement to meet wi' him here at midnight ? 
 Come. Tak' me to ha'e a word wi' the rest. There's no 
 time to be lost ! De'il ha'e't, man ! D'ye think I ha'e a 
 dozen policemen wi' me ? " 
 
 The man grunted, but led on, and exchanged a word 
 with his comrades. From their hiding in a tumble-down 
 corner of the shipyard came more than a dozen sailors, but 
 no soldiers appeared. 
 
 " Whaur are the red-coats ? " asked the Master, doubting 
 there might be some lurking treachery. 
 
 "They're no come," answered one. "D — n them! A' 
 thing's gane wrang ! " 
 
 The tone was one of dejection and anxiety, and the 
 Master took quick advantage of their mood. 
 
 " Ye're the skipper, are ye no? " he demanded of the man 
 who had spoken. 
 
 " Ay, that's me," was the answer. 
 
 "Weel, I ha'e a word to say, skipper," continued the 
 Master. "O'Rhea's gone; ye'll see him no more. Ye ken 
 what that means to you, and I ken, too, for I am now 
 acquaint wi' the whole trick that the villain O'Rhea thought 
 to befool me wi'. Weel, I'm here, and he's no here ; it 
 
340 THE KING OP ANDAMAN. 
 
 doesna tak' a long head to interpret the sense o' that. You 
 and your men were on the side o' the traitor. Your right 
 hand was wi' him, but your left only was for me, your real 
 employer. Oh, just listen a minute. This is the time for 
 speaking plain and straight, and I'm in a hurry. Now, wi' 
 you, or wi'out you, I'm going to sail away in my ship within 
 an hour. I ha'e plenty men wi' me to contrive to do with- 
 out ye, but I'd rayther ha'e your help — the help o' your right 
 hands, ye understand, no your left. Now tak' your wale : 
 bide here and dree your weird, or come wi' me and tak' 
 your chance. Gi'e me your answer." 
 
 " Gi'e me an instant, Mr. Hutcheon, to consult wi' my 
 mates,'' said the skipper. 
 
 " Till I count a score," answered the Master. 
 
 The skipper and his company hurriedly drew together, 
 and in less time than it took to count a score the skipper 
 signified with a cough that his answer was ready. 
 
 '■ Weel ? " demanded the Master. 
 
 " Weel, ye see, Maister," said the skipper, "' our kists wi' 
 a' our belongings are on the ship, and we've signed our 
 articles, and so, wi' your leave, we'll sail wi' ye." 
 
 "That's settled," said the Master promptly. "And now 
 we maun advise about getting the arrest-men off the 
 ship.'' 
 
 There the skipper was ready with his word. He had 
 already discovered that the arrest-men numbered half a 
 dozen, and his plan had been to retake the ship from them 
 by rowing softly in the two boats they had at hand and 
 surprising them from the water. The suggestion seemed 
 good to the Master, and he accepted it ; and then they agreed 
 that he and his friends should be ready to attack on the 
 shore side of the ship at the same moment as the sailors 
 were ready to swarm up from the water, and that the 
 signal for attack should be the cry of a sea-gull from the 
 skipper. 
 
 In that accord they parted, and the Master hurried off to 
 find his following. He discovered them lurking behind the 
 shed which has already been mentioned. The lorries with 
 their loads were waiting, as had been arranged, a little way 
 
EXODUS. 341 
 
 ofif. The Master whispered what success he had had, and 
 the plan of attack ; and then they all waited with beating 
 hearts and fevered impatience. 
 
 The night was calm and serene, and there was no sound 
 but the soft lap of the retiring tide ; and still they waited. 
 Suddenly the cry of a gull broke on the ear of the night, 
 and with a whispered " Now ! " the Master and his fol- 
 lowing swept round from the shelter of the shed and 
 rushed to the ship. The gangway had been removed, 
 but all were now desperate, and they leaped on board 
 — some with a clear jump, others with a trailing scram- 
 ble — at the same instant as they heard a muffled cry or 
 two from below, and saw dimly a man on deck strike 
 another down. 
 
 In a few seconds the six men who were in possession 
 of the ship were bound and gagged. In a few seconds 
 more the gangway was softly run ashore, and the cap- 
 tives were carried into the shed, there to be left with 
 Tamson and his two companions from Ilkastane. Again 
 a few minutes, and the women and children were hur- 
 riedly flitting down among the shadows, and the lorries 
 were being driven back to the Hargate Mill. With trem- 
 bling fingers and fluttering breath the Ilkastane men un- 
 did the moorings. The ship began to move, and there 
 was among all a temptation to utter a yell of relief and 
 delight. 
 
 " Quick, but steady ! " were the words, however, which 
 the steel-nerved Master passed around. 
 
 The topsails were hoisted, and the sailors tumbled back 
 into the two boats, to row as for dear life and tow the ship 
 out, for there was but the merest capful of soft wind. 
 Graciously and steadily the ship swam after them. The 
 tide had run so low that on crossing the bar she almost 
 grounded. But she rose on a swelling wave, and then with 
 a dip of her bows swam into deep water. 
 
 " Thank God ! " fervently exclaimed the Master. The 
 little lady by his side put her hand in his, and all around 
 echoed " Thank God ! " 
 
 The sailors scrambled on board, all the sails were spread 
 
342 THE KING OF ANDAMAN. 
 
 to the breeze, and the ship stood away with the two boats 
 dragging at her stern. 
 
 At length the weary pilgrims were on the wide, salt sea, 
 sailing away to greet the dawn that was rising to meet them 
 over the edge of the horizon — away to find a new, an un- 
 known life, in a new and unknown land 1 
 
 THE END.