When I told him of all that had passed, his dark eyes flashed, and his swarthy cheek glowed, and slapping his bare knee, he exclaimed:—
'Dioul! now or never is the time to make your fortune, like Donald Gair or Robin Oig. Marry the Englishman's daughter, and Glen Ora—hill, wood, and water—shall all be ours again!'
But the monotonous flap-flap-flapping of the steamer's screw was the only reply he heard, as she bore us away for ever.
We reached the noble Clyde in due time, and landed at Dumbarton, for there we ascertained the Duchess was to take on board our emigrants.
I have often thought of the truth of the poet's maxim, that there is a culminating point in the life of every man, and woman too—a turn of 'the tide,' which decides their destiny, and by which their future is irrevocably fixed; and, as this chapter will show, the whole current of my after-life has been changed by the simple circumstance of this emigrant ship being at Dumbarton instead of Glasgow. She was not quite ready for sea—thus three weeks slipped away, during which I lived at a hotel, frittering away the little funds I possessed, while my poor emigrants (who were daily receiving fresh accessions from the expatriated Rosses and Mac Donels) occupied certain old storehouses and sheds upon the quays.
One day Callum and I were sitting at a sequestered part of the river, surveying the stupendous rock of Dumbarton, which is cleft in two, and rises like a mighty mitre of basalt from the channel of the Clyde, strong and formidable in aspect, defended by cannon and by venerable ramparts, from which the beautiful vale of the Leven, the dark mountains of Arrochar, and the vast expanse of the azure river are visible. The shadow of many ages lay upon its hoary walls, for it is the Balclutha of Ossian and of the Romans—the Dun Britton, whence came 'the tall Galbraiths of the Red Tower,' so famed in Celtic story. Now its summits were wreathed in mist; the shades of evening were closing on it, and the red gleam of bayonets appeared upon its walls, as the sentinels of a Highland regiment trod to and fro upon the same ramparts from which the soldiers of the Cæsars, in nearly the same costume, had, eighteen hundred years ago, kept this key of the Western Highlands and of the navigation of the Clyde.
As I gazed at the bayonets glittering ever and anon above the old grey bastions, the words of Clavering came again and again to my memory, and the longing to become a soldier, with a horror of hopeless banishment as an emigrant, grew strong within me. My father had once belonged to this very regiment—the famous fighting —th Highlanders. My resolution was taken in a moment. I would see their colonel—I would speak with him—tell my wishes and depressing circumstances, and frankly ask his advice. Callum loudly applauded this idea!
'He'll make a captain of you,' said he, with a confidence that was certainly not based on a knowledge of the service. 'Who can say nay?' he continued, with kindling eyes; 'a Mac Innon of Glen Ora could never be less than a captain—Mona, Mon Dioul—no! and I shall become a soldier too, and, with five and twenty more of our lads, will follow you to the end of the world, and further!'
In ten minutes after this resolution was formed we were ascending the steep pathway of the castle rock, while Callum whistled lustily an interminable but most warlike pibroch. Entering by the gate which is at the foot of the fortress, and faces the south-east, we passed several strong ramparts, and ascended an abrupt flight of steps into the heart of the place, where the magazine stands, and the sword of Sir William Wallace is preserved. Here a few Highland soldiers who were on guard, and who sat smoking and lounging on a deal form in front of the guard-house, pointed out the quarters of their colonel, in search of whom I immediately repaired; but was informed by an orderly that he was in the mess-room, into which he at once ushered me without much ceremony.
The apartment was large and plain; the windows afforded a view of the mighty valley of the Clyde; the furniture consisted of thirty hard-seated Windsor chairs, a long mahogany table, and side tables strewed with newspapers and dog-eared army-lists. Over the mantelpiece hung an engraved portrait of Sir Colin Campbell, General of the Highland Division, and a row of enormous stags' antlers and skulls.