The Pirate Page 18

  CHAPTER XV.

  A torch for me--let wantons, light of heart, Tickle the useless rushes with their heels: For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase-- I'll be a candle-holder, and look on.

  _Romeo and Juliet._

  The youth, says the moralist Johnson, cares not for the boy'shobbyhorse, nor the man for the youth's mistress; and therefore thedistress of Mordaunt Mertoun, when excluded from the merry dance, mayseem trifling to many of my readers, who would, nevertheless, think theydid well to be angry if deposed from their usual place in an assembly ofa different kind. There lacked not amusement, however, for those whomthe dance did not suit, or who were not happy enough to find partners totheir liking. Halcro, now completely in his element, had assembled roundhim an audience, to whom he was declaiming his poetry with all theenthusiasm of glorious John himself, and receiving in return the usualdegree of applause allowed to minstrels who recite their own rhymes--solong at least as the author is within hearing of the criticism. Halcro'spoetry might indeed have interested the antiquary as well as the admirerof the Muses, for several of his pieces were translations or imitationsfrom the Scaldic sagas, which continued to be sung by the fishermen ofthose islands even until a very late period; insomuch, that when Gray'spoems first found their way to Orkney, the old people recognised atonce, in the ode of the "Fatal Sisters," the Runic rhymes which hadamused or terrified their infancy under the title of the "Magicians,"and which the fishers of North Ronaldshaw, and other remote isles, usedstill to sing when asked for a Norse ditty.[41]

  Half listening, half lost in his own reflections, Mordaunt Mertoun stoodnear the door of the apartment, and in the outer ring of the littlecircle formed around old Halcro, while the bard chanted to a low, wild,monotonous air, varied only by the efforts of the singer to giveinterest and emphasis to particular passages, the following imitation ofa Northern war-song:

  THE SONG OF HAROLD HARFAGER.

  The sun is rising dimly red, The wind is wailing low and dread; From his cliff the eagle sallies, Leaves the wolf his darksome valleys; In the midst the ravens hover, Peep the wild-dogs from the cover, Screaming, croaking, baying, yelling, Each in his wild accents telling, "Soon we feast on dead and dying, Fair-hair'd Harold's flag is flying."

  Many a crest in air is streaming, Many a helmet darkly gleaming, Many an arm the axe uprears, Doom'd to hew the wood of spears. All along the crowded ranks, Horses neigh and armour clanks; Chiefs are shouting, clarions ringing, Louder still the bard is singing, "Gather, footmen,--gather, horsemen, To the field, ye valiant Norsemen!

  "Halt ye not for food or slumber, View not vantage, count not number; Jolly reapers, forward still; Grow the crop on vale or hill, Thick or scatter'd, stiff or lithe, It shall down before the scythe. Forward with your sickles bright, Reap the harvest of the fight-- Onward, footmen,--onward, horsemen, To the charge, ye gallant Norsemen!

  "Fatal Choosers of the Slaughter, O'er you hovers Odin's daughter; Hear the voice she spreads before ye,-- Victory, and wealth, and glory; Or old Valhalla's roaring hail, Her ever-circling mead and ale, Where for eternity unite The joys of wassail and of fight. Headlong forward, foot and horsemen, Charge and fight, and die like Norsemen!"

  "The poor unhappy blinded heathens!" said Triptolemus, with a sigh deepenough for a groan; "they speak of their eternal cups of ale, and Iquestion if they kend how to manage a croft land of grain!"

  "The cleverer fellows they, neighbour Yellowley," answered the poet, "ifthey made ale without barley."

  "Barley!--alack-a-day!" replied the more accurate agriculturist, "whoever heard of barley in these parts? Bear, my dearest friend, bear isall they have, and wonderment it is to me that they ever see an awn ofit. Ye scart the land with a bit thing ye ca' a pleugh--ye might as weelgive it a ritt with the teeth of a redding-kame. O, to see the sock, andthe heel, and the sole-clout of a real steady Scottish pleugh, with achield like a Samson between the stilts, laying a weight on them wouldkeep down a mountain; twa stately owsen, and as many broad-breastedhorse in the traces, going through soil and till, and leaving a fur inthe ground would carry off water like a causeyed syver! They that haveseen a sight like that, have seen something to crack about in anothersort, than those unhappy auld-warld stories of war and slaughter, ofwhich the land has seen even but too mickle, for a' your singing andsoughing awa in praise of such bloodthirsty doings, Master ClaudHalcro."

  "It is a heresy," said the animated little poet, bridling and drawinghimself up, as if the whole defence of the Orcadian Archipelago restedon his single arm--"It is a heresy so much as to name one's nativecountry, if a man is not prepared when and how to defend himself--ay,and to annoy another. The time has been, that if we made not good aleand aquavitae, we knew well enough where to find that which was readymade to our hand; but now the descendants of Sea-kings, and Champions,and Berserkars, are become as incapable of using their swords, as ifthey were so many women. Ye may praise them for a strong pull on an oar,or a sure foot on a skerry; but what else could glorious John himselfsay of ye, my good Hialtlanders, that any man would listen to?"

  "Spoken like an angel, most noble poet," said Cleveland, who, during aninterval of the dance, stood near the party in which this conversationwas held. "The old champions you talked to us about yesternight, werethe men to make a harp ring--gallant fellows, that were friends to thesea, and enemies to all that sailed on it. Their ships, I suppose, wereclumsy enough; but if it is true that they went upon the account as faras the Levant, I scarce believe that ever better fellows unloosed atopsail."

  "Ay," replied Halcro, "there you spoke them right. In those days nonecould call their life and means of living their own, unless they dwelttwenty miles out of sight of the blue sea. Why, they had public prayersput up in every church in Europe, for deliverance from the ire of theNorthmen. In France and England, ay, and in Scotland too, for as high asthey hold their head now-a-days, there was not a bay or a haven, but itwas freer to our forefathers than to the poor devils of natives; and nowwe cannot, forsooth, so much as grow our own barley without Scottishhelp"--(here he darted a sarcastic glance at the factor)--"I would I sawthe time we were to measure arms with them again!"

  "Spoken like a hero once more," said Cleveland.

  "Ah!" continued the little bard, "I would it were possible to see ourbarks, once the water-dragons of the world, swimming with the blackraven standard waving at the topmast, and their decks glimmering witharms, instead of being heaped up with stockfish--winning with ourfearless hands what the niggard soil denies--paying back all old scornand modern injury--reaping where we never sowed, and felling what wenever planted--living and laughing through the world, and smiling whenwe were summoned to quit it!"

  So spoke Claud Halcro, in no serious, or at least most certainly in nosober mood, his brain (never the most stable) whizzing under theinfluence of fifty well-remembered sagas, besides five bumpers ofusquebaugh and brandy; and Cleveland, between jest and earnest, clappedhim on the shoulder, and again repeated, "Spoken like a hero!"

  "Spoken like a fool, I think," said Magnus Troil, whose attention hadbeen also attracted by the vehemence of the little bard--"where wouldyou cruize upon, or against whom?--we are all subjects of one realm, Itrow, and I would have you to remember, that your voyage may bring up atExecution-dock.--I like not the Scots--no offence, Mr. Yellowley--thatis, I would like them well enough if they would stay quiet in their ownland, and leave us at peace with our own people, and manners, andfashions; and if they would but abide there till I went to harry themlike a mad old Berserkar, I would leave them in peace till the day ofjudgment. With what the sea sends us, and the land lends us, as theproverb says, and a set of honest neighbourly folks to help us toconsume it, so help me, Saint Magnus, as I think we are even but toohappy!"

  "I know what war is," said an old man, "and I would as soon sail throughSumburgh-roost in a cockle-shell, or in a worse loom, as I would venturethere again."

 
; "And, pray, what wars knew your valour?" said Halcro, who, thoughforbearing to contradict his landlord from a sense of respect, was not awhit inclined to abandon his argument to any meaner authority.

  "I was pressed," answered the old Triton, "to serve under Montrose, whenhe came here about the sixteen hundred and fifty-one, and carried a sortof us off, will ye nill ye, to get our throats cut in the wilds ofStrathnavern[42](_k_)--I shall never forget it--we had been hard put toit for victuals--what would I have given for a luncheon of Burgh-Westrabeef--ay, or a mess of sour sillocks?--When our Highlandmen brought in adainty drove of kyloes, much ceremony there was not, for we shot andfelled, and flayed, and roasted, and broiled, as it came to every man'shand; till, just as our beards were at the greasiest, we heard--Godpreserve us--a tramp of horse, then twa or three drapping shots,--thencame a full salvo,--and then, when the officers were crying on us tostand, and maist of us looking which way we might run away, down theybroke, horse and foot, with old John Urry, or Hurry,[43] or whateverthey called him--he hurried us that day, and worried us to boot--and webegan to fall as thick as the stots that we were felling five minutesbefore."

  "And Montrose," said the soft voice of the graceful Minna; "what becameof Montrose, or how looked he?"

  "Like a lion with the hunters before him," answered the old gentleman;"but I looked not twice his way, for my own lay right over the hill."

  "And so you left him?" said Minna, in a tone of the deepest contempt.

  "It was no fault of mine, Mistress Minna," answered the old man,somewhat out of countenance; "but I was there with no choice of my own;and, besides, what good could I have done?--all the rest were runninglike sheep, and why should I have staid?"

  "You might have died with him," said Minna.

  "And lived with him to all eternity, in immortal verse!" added ClaudHalcro.

  "I thank you, Mistress Minna," replied the plain-dealing Zetlander; "andI thank you, my old friend Claud;--but I would rather drink both yourhealths in this good bicker of ale, like a living man as I am, than thatyou should be making songs in my honour, for having died forty or fiftyyears agone. But what signified it,--run or fight, 'twas all one;--theytook Montrose, poor fellow, for all his doughty deeds, and they took methat did no doughty deeds at all; and they hanged him, poor man, and asfor me"----

  "I trust in Heaven they flogged and pickled you," said Cleveland, wornout of patience with the dull narrative of the peaceful Zetlander'spoltroonery, of which he seemed so wondrous little ashamed.

  "Flog horses, and pickle beef," said Magnus; "Why, you have not thevanity to think, that, with all your quarterdeck airs, you will makepoor old neighbour Haagen ashamed that he was not killed some scores ofyears since? You have looked on death yourself, my doughty young friend,but it was with the eyes of a young man who wishes to be thought of; butwe are a peaceful people,--peaceful, that is, as long as any one shouldbe peaceful, and that is till some one has the impudence to wrong us, orour neighbours; and then, perhaps, they may not find our northern bloodmuch cooler in our veins than was that of the old Scandinavians thatgave us our names and lineage.--Get ye along, get ye along to thesword-dance,[44] that the strangers that are amongst us may see that ourhands and our weapons are not altogether unacquainted even yet."

  A dozen cutlasses, selected hastily from an old arm-chest, and whoserusted hue bespoke how seldom they left the sheath, armed the samenumber of young Zetlanders, with whom mingled six maidens, led by MinnaTroil; and the minstrelsy instantly commenced a tune appropriate to theancient Norwegian war-dance, the evolutions of which are perhaps stillpractised in those remote islands.

  The first movement was graceful and majestic, the youths holding theirswords erect, and without much gesture; but the tune, and thecorresponding motions of the dancers, became gradually more and morerapid,--they clashed their swords together, in measured time, with aspirit which gave the exercise a dangerous appearance in the eye of thespectator, though the firmness, justice, and accuracy, with which thedancers kept time with the stroke of their weapons, did, in truth,ensure its safety. The most singular part of the exhibition was thecourage exhibited by the female performers, who now, surrounded by theswordsmen, seemed like the Sabine maidens in the hands of their Romanlovers; now, moving under the arch of steel which the young men hadformed, by crossing their weapons over the heads of their fair partners,resembled the band of Amazons when they first joined in the Pyrrhicdance with the followers of Theseus. But by far the most striking andappropriate figure was that of Minna Troil, whom Halcro had longsince entitled the Queen of Swords, and who, indeed, moved amidst theswordsmen with an air, which seemed to hold all the drawn blades as theproper accompaniments of her person, and the implements of her pleasure.And when the mazes of the dance became more intricate, when the closeand continuous clash of the weapons made some of her companions shrink,and show signs of fear, her cheek, her lip, and her eye, seemed ratherto announce, that, at the moment when the weapons flashed fastest, andrung sharpest around her, she was most completely self-possessed, and inher own element. Last of all, when the music had ceased, and sheremained for an instant upon the floor by herself, as the rule of thedance required, the swordsmen and maidens, who departed from around her,seemed the guards and the train of some princess, who, dismissed by hersignal, were leaving her for a time to solitude. Her own look andattitude, wrapped, as she probably was, in some vision of theimagination, corresponded admirably with the ideal dignity which thespectators ascribed to her; but, almost immediately recollectingherself, she blushed, as if conscious she had been, though but for aninstant, the object of undivided attention, and gave her hand gracefullyto Cleveland, who, though he had not joined in the dance, assumed theduty of conducting her to her seat.

  As they passed, Mordaunt Mertoun might observe that Cleveland whisperedinto Minna's ear, and that her brief reply was accompanied with evenmore discomposure of countenance than she had manifested whenencountering the gaze of the whole assembly. Mordaunt's suspicions werestrongly awakened by what he observed, for he knew Minna's characterwell, and with what equanimity and indifference she was in the custom ofreceiving the usual compliments and gallantries with which her beautyand her situation rendered her sufficiently familiar.

  "Can it be possible she really loves this stranger?" was the unpleasantthought that instantly shot across Mordaunt's mind;--"And if she does,what is my interest in the matter?" was the second; and which wasquickly followed by the reflection, that though he claimed no interestat any time but as a friend, and though that interest was now withdrawn,he was still, in consideration of their former intimacy, entitled bothto be sorry and angry at her for throwing away her affections on one hejudged unworthy of her. In this process of reasoning, it is probablethat a little mortified vanity, or some indescribable shade of selfishregret, might be endeavouring to assume the disguise of disinterestedgenerosity; but there is so much of base alloy in our very best(unassisted) thoughts, that it is melancholy work to criticise tooclosely the motives of our most worthy actions; at least we wouldrecommend to every one to let those of his neighbours pass current,however narrowly he may examine the purity of his own.

  The sword-dance was succeeded by various other specimens of the sameexercise, and by songs, to which the singers lent their whole soul,while the audience were sure, as occasion offered, to unite in somefavourite chorus. It is upon such occasions that music, though of asimple and even rude character, finds its natural empire over thegenerous bosom, and produces that strong excitement which cannot beattained by the most learned compositions of the first masters, whichare caviare to the common ear, although, doubtless, they afford adelight, exquisite in its kind, to those whose natural capacity andeducation have enabled them to comprehend and relish those difficult andcomplicated combinations of harmony.

  It was about midnight when a knocking at the door of the mansion, withthe sound of the _Gue_ and the _Langspiel_, announced, by their tinklingchime, the arrival of fresh revellers, to whom, according to thehospitable cust
om of the country, the apartments were instantly thrownopen.

  FOOTNOTES:

  [41] See Note I.--Norse Fragments.

  [42] Montrose, in his last and ill-advised attempt to invade Scotland,augmented his small army of Danes and Scottish Royalists, by some bandsof raw troops, hastily levied, or rather pressed into his service, inthe Orkney and Zetland Isles, who, having little heart either to thecause or manner of service, behaved but indifferently when they cameinto action.

  [43] Here, as afterwards remarked in the text, the Zetlander's memorydeceived him grossly. Sir John Urry, a brave soldier of fortune, was atthat time in Montrose's army, and made prisoner along with him. He hadchanged so often that the mistake is pardonable. After the action, hewas executed by the Covenanters; and

  "Wind-changing Warwick then could change no more"

  Strachan commanded the body by which Montrose was routed.

  [44] Note VII.--The Sword-Dance.(_l_)