Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 19

by Unknown

To this threat Jean made no reply, and probably she would have entirely disregarded it, had there been no other inducement for her to keep silence on the subject she hinted at. But other inducements there were. Had she divulged the secret to which she alluded, and which was no other than that of Gordon’s real parentage, she would have exposed two brothers and a husband to the vengeance of the law—and this consideration at once checked the resolution she had begun to entertain.

To return to our story. Jean’s expostulations with Gordon on the step he had taken, and her appeals to his gratitude, in behalf of her wish to induce him to remain with her, were not unheeded by the young man, who readily acknowledged, with a tear in his eye while he spoke, all her kindnesses to him. But it was now too late. The deed was done, and there was no recalling it; neither, it must be confessed, did Gordon wish it should be recalled.

We have said that there was none of the little community to which Gordon belonged, who felt so much at the prospect of his leaving them as Jean; but this was not strictly correct. There was another who felt even more than she did; although these feelings were not, in every particular, of precisely the same description. That other person was Jean’s daughter—a little black-eyed gipsy of about eighteen years of age, and between whom and Gordon there had long subsisted a mutual attachment.

On learning of the sudden step which her lover had taken, the poor girl wept bitterly, and was not consoled until Gordon had repeatedly and solemnly assured her of a continuance of his love, and that he would very soon return to her—“When,” he said—but this sentence he finished in a whisper into her ear—“you shall become my wife, Rosie.”

The gipsy girl held down her head and blushed. Gordon flung his arms around her neck—tenderly embraced her—and, in a few minutes afterwards, was on the march with his regiment.

In a few days after the arrival of the latter at Stirling, the Duke of Argyle, having learned that the Earl of Mar was approaching, with the view of giving him battle, mustered his army, which included the regiment to which Gordon belonged, and marched out to meet him. The opposing armies came in sight of each other on Sheriffmuir, where, as is well known, a pretty severe encounter took place, in which both sides claimed the victory. In this engagement, the regiment in which Gordon served was stationed on the left wing of the royal forces, which was opposed to the Highlanders in Mar’s army, and thus involved in the most sanguinary part of the conflict.

Soon after the commencement of the battle, our young soldier was fortunate enough to save the life of an officer of the King’s army. This officer, who was mounted, was unhorsed by a Highlander, who had previously wounded him severely in the thigh with his broadsword, and was about to complete his destruction with the same weapon as he lay defenceless on the ground, when Gordon ran him through the heart with his bayonet. In the next instant, and before the person whose life Gordon had saved, could inform him who he was, or thank him for his opportune and very effective aid, the tide of battle rolled over the spot, and they were separated. Nor did they meet again—and thus each remained in ignorance of who the other was.

It was not long after this, however, before Gordon himself required the aid which he had so timeously afforded another, and that under nearly similar circumstances. He was attacked by a ferocious mountaineer of immense stature, who made a cut at him with his broadsword; but Gordon not only adroitly warded off the blow with his musket, but succeeded in inflicting a deep wound on his antagonist with his bayonet. Enraged to find himself thus baffled by a stripling, and smarting with pain, the infuriated Celt beat down Gordon’s firelock, and rushed in upon him, with the intention of dispatching him with his dirk. But this was not so easily done. Finding his musket no longer of any avail, Gordon dropped it on the ground, and, quick as lightning, sprang upon and grappled with his enemy; and thus, in turn, prevented him making use of his weapons. A desperate struggle now ensued between the combatants, each endeavouring to overturn the other; and, for a moment or two, it was doubtful which would eventually be thrown. But the superior strength of the Highlander finally prevailed, and Gordon fell, with his remorseless foe above him. In the next instant, the Highlander’s dirk gleamed in the air, and was already on its descent towards the heart of the prostrate youth, when, ere the blow could be struck, both the weapon and the hand which held it fell to the ground. The arm of the Highlander had been severed, at this critical moment, by the sabre of a dragoon, who had approached the combatants unperceived by either. Thus miraculously freed from the danger of immediate death, Gordon sprang to his feet, and assisted the trooper in completing the destruction of his assailant, whom they instantly despatched. But the perils of the day to the young soldier did not terminate with this adventure; another soon after befell him, that threatened to end more fatally.

When making his way back to join his regiment, which had shifted its ground in the tumult of fight, he suddenly found himself intercepted by a party of the enemy, by whom he was taken prisoner, and immediately after disarmed, bound, and sent to the rear, where he found several others in the same unhappy situation with himself. On the termination of the conflict, the prisoners were marched to a small village, at the distance of eight or ten miles from the field of battle; and, on the following day, a kind of court-martial, formed of a few straggling officers hastily brought together, was held on them, when, after a trial which lasted only a few minutes, the whole were condemned to death, for being in arms—so ran the words of their doom—against their lawful king, James VII.; and the hour of two in the afternoon, of the same day, was appointed for carrying the sentence into effect.