Which of these two motives was the stronger on this occasion, we will not say; but certain it is, that there was an anxious desire on the part of all to save the infant which was presumed to be in the cradle.
One of the most eager for the accomplishment of this humane purpose, among the females of the gang, was a stout, masculine woman of the name of Jean Gordon, who hastily kilting up her petticoats, dashed into the stream when the cradle came in sight, with the view of intercepting it; but the water was too deep for her, and she was obliged to stop short long before she reached the line of the cradle’s direction. Finding this, and highly excited by disappointment and anxiety, she frantically called on some of the men to try and effect the rescue of the child.
“John Young! John Young! save the wean!—save the wean!” she exclaimed, addressing herself to a tall athletic man, who was the farthest out in the stream, and who was at the moment busily employed in endeavouring to secure a chest of drawers which were in the act of tumbling past him. “I’m sure I’ve seen ye do baulder things than that, John, and for far less. O man, for the love o’ God, and yer ain soul, save the puir innocent!” For it had now been ascertained that there actually was a child in the cradle.
The man thus appealed to by Jean made no reply, but steadily eyed for a moment the approaching object of her solicitude, to which he was now at liberty to pay attention, as the chest of drawers had fairly got out of his reach. The cradle, in the meantime, came gliding rapidly onwards; but it was evident that it would pass at the distance of several yards from where Young stood.
Young, who was an excellent and a fearless swimmer, marked this, and took his measures accordingly; for he had determined on making an effort to save the infant. Having waded in to the shoulders, he waited till the cradle had arrived within a few feet of the line on which he stood, when he made a bold and sudden push into the centre of the stream, and so well calculated his distance, that, after making a few strokes—for he had lost his footing—he came in contact with it at the exact point on which he had reckoned. Seizing now the cradle with one hand, and keeping himself afloat with the other, Young prudently gave way to the current, and allowed himself to be borne along with it until an opportunity should present itself for his striking in for the shore. The situation of Young, however, was a perilous one; but he did not want the stimulus of approbation to enable him to go through with his humane purpose. Jean Gordon ran along the margin of the stream, keeping up with the floating, rather than swimming man, and anon raising her voice with these words of encouragement.
“That’s my brave man!” she shouted, as she dashed through hedge and bush in her onward progress, with her eye fixed on the cradle, and regardless of all obstructions that lay in her path. “That’s my brave man! Haud on, John—haud on! Never mind the ragin o’ the waters, John, but be o’ stout heart; for the Lord’s wi’ ye, and ’ll bear ye up wi’ a strong arm. This way noo, John—this way noo,” she added, pointing to a small inlet where there was no current, and which promised an easy landing-place. “This way, John,” she said, and dashed into the water to assist the voyagers to land.
Young, approving of Jean’s suggestion, made a strong effort to free himself from the current, and succeeded in getting into the still and shallow water, where he quickly gained his feet; Jean, at the same moment, pouncing on the child, which she took from the cradle and hugged to her bosom in a rapture of joy.
“Faith, it was a teuch job, Jean,” said Young, now shaking himself like a huge water-dog; “but it’s a guid ane, and I houp ’ll stan’ against twa or throe o’ my sins.”
“Nae doot o’t, John—nae doot o’t,” replied Jean, gazing fondly on the infant as she spoke. “It’s a guid deed, and will be remembered to yer advantage baith here and hereafter. A bonny bairn it is, in troth,” she went on, now apostrophizing the infant; “and ’ll be sair missed by somebody, I warrant.”
Having said this, she wrapped up the child in the blankets in which it had been enveloped in the cradle, and, accompanied by Young, returned to the encampment, which they found breaking up, and the gang hurriedly preparing to depart—a sudden move, indeed, but one for which there was good reason. The gipsies had rescued a number of things from the water, which it was certain their owners would miss, and which, therefore, it was not improbable they might institute some troublesome inquiries after, if they remained much longer where they were; and it was thought best to avoid this annoyance by decamping. Urged on by these considerations, the packing up was soon completed; and, in a very few minutes, the whole troop was on the march towards Yetholm, in the neighbourhood of which they again pitched their tents.