Ashcliffe Hall: A tale of the last century

by Emily Sarah Holt

"What strange names your father gave his daughters!"

"Ay, that was a strange name, and all said so. It came out of an old chronicle that he had, a very ancient book, and he deemed it a fair name, and gave it in the baptizing to his youngest-born. Those were evil days, Madam, on which we fell. Yet why should I call them evil, when they were days of growing in the truth, and of the great honor of suffering for the Lord's sake? Mr. Grey, your grandfather, Madam, was a very gracious man, and did preach most savory discourses. Wherefore, he was one of the first on whom the blow fell. And when King Charles sent his troopers into our parts, under command of Claverhouse,[[1]] bidding them hunt and slay all that would not conform unto his way, they came, one of the first places, into our valley. Many an humble and honest husbandman, that feared God, was hung up at his own door by the wicked Claverhouse and his troopers, and many a godly man and woman was constrained to dwell in caves and dens of the earth until this enemy was overpast. I could tell many a tale of those days that would stir your blood, Madam, if it pleased you to hear it. We were amongst those whom the Lord was pleased to honor by permitting them to suffer for His name's sake. Mr. Grey refused to fly. He was dragged down, one Sabbath morn, from the pulpit in Lauchie Kirk, Claverhouse himself being at the door. He had been preaching unto us a most sweet, godly, and gracious discourse of casting care upon the Lord, and standing firm in the truth. And just when he was speaking that great and precious promise of the Lord, 'Lo! I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world,' the troopers burst in. Then the whole kirk thronged around our Minister, and sought to free him from the evil men. Mine uncle Jock Leslie, fell, thrust through with the swords of the troopers, and many another. But at length they had their wicked will, and bound us, men, women, and children, two and two, with one strong rope, like a gang of slaves going to the market-place. I was greatly honored to have the next place to Mr. Grey, hand in hand with whom walked Miss Magdalene, a sweet young maid of scarce fourteen years. His godly wife was bound, just before, with Janet Campbell, an old wife of nigh eighty. So we were marched down eleven miles to the shore. Ah! but my heart ached for Miss Magdalene and Roswith ere we reached it! It was a grand comfort to find Roswith bound with me, for she was but a wee wean of eight years, and I a grown maiden of twenty. Doubtless this was the Lord's mercy. When we came to the sea, we saw a great ship lying afar off, and we were all thrust into boats to carry us thither. When we were aboard, the troopers, some of whom came with us, did drive us below, and shut down the hatches upon us: which, it being summer time, was hot and painful, and many women and children fell sick therewith. Whither we were to go we knew not, only Mr. Grey surmised that they thought either to sell us for slaves in Barbary unto the heathen there, or else to convey us unto the King's plantations in Virginia or those parts; though if they were bound unto Virginia he knew not wherefore they should set sail from the eastern part of the kingdom. For three days and nights we were thus kept under hatches, to our much discomfort, and the ship sailing northwards with all the speed the sailors could make. During which time we were greatly comforted with the thought of Christ our Lord, and the three days and three nights which He was in the heart of the earth. Likewise Mr. Grey did oft exhort us, and prayed us to bear all that should come upon us meekly and bravely, and as unto the Lord. Then some of us which were mighty in the Scriptures did say certain parts thereof for the comfort of the rest; in particular, old Jamie Campbell, Janet's guidman, and Elsie Armstrong, his sister's daughter. So passed these three days until the Wednesday even. And then arose a great and mighty tempest, with contrary winds, driving the ship down, so that, notwithstanding all the skill of the shipmen, she lost in one day and night more than she had gained in all the three. Verily she fled like a mad thing afore the violence of that wind. And on the Thursday night, a little on the hither side of midnight, she flying as thistledown afore the wind, we felt a mighty shock, and suddenly the water came in at our feet with a great rush. Mr. Grey said he thought the ship must have lighted on some rock, and that a hole was driven in her. Then the shipmen opened the hatches, and in dolorous voices bade us come up on deck, for we were all like to drown. Wherefore we ascended the ladders, thirty-five in all our company, I alway holding tight the hand of my wee sister. When we were upon deck, we found from the words of the shipmen that they were about to loose the boats. So when all the boats were loosed, the troopers filled two of them and the seamen the third, and no room was left for the prisoners. Then in this time we thought much on Paul and his shipwreck, and how the seamen were minded to kill the prisoners lest any should escape: and we marvelled if they counselled to kill us, seeing there was no room for us in the boats."

"O Patient! surely they laid no hands on any of you?"

"No, Madam; they left that to the wind and the sea. The three boats cast off, and we prisoners stood alone on the deck of the sinking ship. We had neither wit nor material to make any more boats nor rafts. And when we saw our death thus before us—for our ship, like Paul's, was stuck fast in the forepart, but the sea beat freely on the hinder—we stood like men stupid and amazed for a short season. But then above all the noise of the storm came Mr. Grey's voice, which we were used to obeying, saying, 'Brethren, in a few hours at most, perchance in a few minutes, we shall stand before God. Let our last hour be employed in His worship.' Then we gathered all around him, on that part of the ship which was fast on the rock, and he led the exercise with that Psalm:[[2]]

'O God, the heathen entered have
Thine heritage; by them
Defiled is Thine house: on heaps
They laid Jerusalem.'

"After the Psalm there was an exhortation. Our Minister bade us remember that we were the Lord's freedmen—doubly so now, since our enemies had cast us away from them, and we were left only on the mercy of our God. Moreover, he recalled that of David, saying in his strait, 'Let me fall into the hand of the Lord, for His mercies are great.'[[3]] Then he prayed with us; and while the exercise yet lasted, and Mr. Grey was still praying, and entreating the Lord to deal with us in his mercy, whether for life or for death,—but if it should be death, as there seemed no other, to grant, if it so pleased Him, an easy dying unto the little children in especial—while he prayed, the ship parted asunder with a great crash, and the waves, leaping up on that part which stuck fast, swept every soul of us out into the boiling sea."

"O Patient, what a dreadful story! And how many were saved?"

"Four, Madam."

"Only four out of thirty-five!"

"Ah, Madam! the thirty-one were happier than any of the four!"