Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 08

by Unknown

"Trouble!" said Mr. Alston, contemptuously; "you, the preserver of my dear daughter's life, talk of trouble! No—no; we shall be but too happy to have you, to show you, as far as we can, the deep sense we all entertain of the unrequitable obligation we lie under to you."

"Don't lose sight of him, papa!" here exclaimed Miss Alston, in clear soft tones, as she tripped away.

"No fear, my dear—I'll hold him fast," replied her father; and, while he did so, he clutched Jamie with a still surer gripe.

Jamie now saw that the old boy was determined not to part with him until he should have run the gauntlet of the whole family's gratitude; and once more did he devoutly wish that his tongue had been anywhere but in his mouth when he first broached the unhappy story of the drowning adventure. He had never got into such a scrape before with any of his small nouvelettes, and he almost determined that he would never publish another—that he would henceforth deal in nothing but well-authenticated facts. The question, in the meantime, however, was, how to escape the threatened consequences of the one with which he was now entangled, and this question was a poser. There was but one way, and on this Jamie finally determined. This way was, to bolt for it—to show the old boy a pair of clean heels; and thus at once cut the connection. There was no other way of dealing with the dilemma. Having made up his mind to this proceeding, Jamie suddenly stopped at a certain close-mouth in the Trongate, and, intimating to his escort that he had a call to make there, requested him to wait an instant till he returned.

"I'll no keep ye a minnit," said Jamie, "no ae minnit."

And, leaving the old boy to mount guard till his return, he proceeded up the close, at first leisurely; but, on gaining a turn, which concealed him from his Cerberus, he fairly took to his heels, and emerged in a distant street, to which the close led. Here Jamie drew bridle and breath together, and thanked goodness for his escape; expressing, at the same time, a fervent hope that he would never again meet with Mr. Alston or any of his family. Having thus got his head out of the noose, Jamie adjourned to the quarters which he usually occupied when he went to Glasgow; and, on the following day, sallied out to transact the business which had brought him to the city. It was not, however, with a mind perfectly at ease that Jamie went about this business; for he dreaded every moment encountering Mr. Alston or his daughter; and, under this terror, he kept a sharp look-out as he went along, always cutting suddenly across the street, when he got his eyes on any person or persons of suspicious appearance—that is, on any old gentleman or young lady who bore a real or fancied resemblance to Mr. Alston or his fair daughter; and the sequel will show that his precaution was not an unnecessary, although, alas! a vain one.

Just as he turned the corner of a street, who should Jamie see coming towards him, and at the distance of about fifty or eighty yards, but the much-dreaded Mr. Alston, his daughter, and a brother, a young man of about four-and-twenty! On recognising them, Jamie instantly stopped short, and, after a moment's reflection, determined on having again recourse to his heels—no other way of escape, as in the former instance, appearing practicable. To this proceeding Jamie was further induced by an impression that he had not been seen, or at least recognised; but in this, as will appear, he was mistaken. However, not aware of the fact, Jamie turned quickly round, and fairly ran for it. But, as we have already hinted, he had been both seen and known by the Alstons, and they, believing his anxiety to avoid them proceeded from excessive modesty, and a timid nature that shrank from the noise of its own good deeds, resolved on compelling Jamie to submit to their acknowledgments; and, acting on this resolution, the young man (who, by the way, was provided with an admirable pair of legs for such purposes) was despatched by his father and sister in pursuit. The effect of this proceeding on Jamie, who had become aware of it, by happening to turn round for an instant during his flight, was to accelerate his speed. He flew like the wind, knocking about and overturning several people in his rapid and furious career. Thus the run continued for several minutes, when Jamie, feeling his wind failing him, and becoming thereby sensible that he could not hold out much longer, made a sudden dive up a close—one of those convenient retreats for "gentlemen in difficulties;" and, by this cleverly-executed movement, succeeded in fairly throwing out his pursuer, who, from the crowded state of the street, did not perceive the ruse, but held on his way vigorously, and afforded Jamie the inexpressible satisfaction of seeing him rush past the mouth of the entrance in which he was concealed. Feeling now in comparative safety, which, however, he further insured by going half-way up a stair, Jamie, who was a good deal blown by his exertion, took off his hat, and began wiping the perspiration from his face and forehead with his pocket-handkerchief, and doing all he could to recover his nearly exhausted breath.

"Hech," said Jamie, on beginning to respire more freely, and still wiping his face assiduously, "this has been athegither a deevil o' a job. Such a rumpus to be kicked up a' out o' nothing! Chased as if I was a mad dog! It was the maist unlucky ane ever I tell't but catch me again savin onybody frae beein drooned! I'll no touch that style again in a hurry, I warrant." And with such disjointed remarks as these on his unhappy essay in his peculiar art, Jamie beguiled the short time which he thought it necessary to remain in his concealment. This expired—or, in other words, thinking the coast now clear—Jamie stole cautiously down the stair, and, on arriving at the bottom, peeped into the close before venturing out. The survey being satisfactory, Jamie emerged, and stealing down the close like a cat, repeated at the foot of it the operation of peeping round him, before taking the bold measure of stepping into the street. No enemy was in sight, Jamie drew his breath for a desperate adventure. It was a rush he meditated, which should at once carry him clear of the dangerous locality; and he accomplished it. From that hour, Jamie saw no more of the Alstons, and thus got out of the entangled web which he had woven for himself; but it was not long before he manufactured another, and a much more troublesome one.

The day on which the event in Jamie's life which we have just recorded took place, was one of great stir and excitation in Glasgow. It was the day of the execution of the Radical, Swan; whose death, on account of his crime having been a political one, was to be attended with some of the appalling ceremonies and peculiar proceedings that usually mark the execution of traitors.

Following the general current of the population which, as the hour appointed for the horrid exhibition was at hand, was drawing towards the jail, Jamie soon found himself at the place of execution. Here the general, and in some things the particular, appearance of the preparations for the approaching tragedy, showed that it was to be one of a very unusual kind. A strong party of foot-soldiers surrounded the gibbet, while the approaches at either end of the jail were occupied by dragoons, who, from the peremptory manner in which they performed their duty, in repelling all attempts at affecting a passage by the way which they guarded, sufficiently showed that their orders had been unusually strict. The crowd and general excitement was immense.