In a short time I was reconducted into the presence of the lieutenant, who told me, as I was already in his hands, and would assuredly be kept, I might as well make a frank confession of my circumstances. It would save time, and insure me better treatment. What could I do? I might indeed have continued silent and sullen, but of what service could this prove? It might, or might not, have procured me worse treatment, but one thing I knew well, it would not restore me to liberty. I therefore acknowledged that I had been a voyage to the West Indies, and had come home carpenter of a ship. His eye brightened at this intelligence.
“I am glad of this, my lad. We are very much in want of carpenters. Step along with these lads, and they will give you a passage aboard.”
The same fellows who had first seized me led me along the way we came, handed me into a pinnace lying at Tower Wharf, and before mid-day I was safely handed on board the Enterprize.
What crosses and vexations, and reverses and disappointments, are we mortals destined to meet with in life’s tempestuous voyage! At eight in the morning I entered London a free agent, elated with joy, and buoyed up with hope. At noon I entered a prison ship, a miserable slave, oppressed with sorrow, and ready to despair.
Despair, did I say? No. I will have nothing to do with that disturber of human peace. When misfortune befalls us, we are not to sit down in despondency and sigh. Up and be doing, is the wise man’s maxim, and it was the maxim I was resolved to observe. What befell me on my arrival on board the Enterprize, what reception I met with, and what mirth I excited as I was lowered into the press-room, with my short breeches and swallow-tailed coat—what measures I exerted to regain my liberty, and what success attended these measures—the space at my disposal prevents me setting forth.—Paisley Magazine.
THE LAIRD OF COOL’S GHOST.
Upon the 3d day of February 1722 at seven o’clock in the evening, after I had parted with Thurston, and coming up the burial road, one came up riding after me. Upon hearing the noise of the horse’s feet, I took it to be Thurston; but looking back, and seeing the horse of a gray colour, I called, “Who’s there?” The answer was, “The Laird of Cool; be not afraid.” Looking to him with the little light the moon afforded, I took him to be Collector Castlelaw, who had a mind to put a trick upon me, and immediately I struck with all my force with my cane, thinking I would leave a mark upon him that would make him remember his presumption; but although sensible I aimed as well as ever I did in my life, yet my cane finding no resistance, but flying out of my hand to the distance of sixty feet, and observing it by its white head, I dismounted and took it up, but had some difficulty in mounting again, partly by reason of a certain sort of trembling throughout my whole joints, something also of anger had its share in my confusion; for though he laughed when my staff flew out of my hand, coming up with him again (who halted all the time I was seeking my staff), I asked him once more who he was? He answered, “The Laird of Cool.” I inquired, first, if he was the Laird of Cool; secondly, what brought him thither? and thirdly, what was his business with me? He answered, “The reason that I want you is, that I know you are disposed to do for me what none of your brethren in Nithsdale will so much as attempt, though it serve never so good a purpose.” I told him I would never refuse to do anything to serve a good purpose, if I thought I was obliged to do it as my duty. He answered, that I had undertaken what few in Nithsdale would, for he had tried several persons on that subject, who were more obliged to him than I was to any person living. Upon this I drew my bridle reins, and asked in surprise, what I had undertaken? He answered, “That on Sabbath last, I heard you condemned Mr Paton, and the other ministers of Dumfries, for dissuading Mr Menzies from keeping his appointment with me; and if you had been in their place, would have persuaded the lad to do as I desired, and that you would have gone with him yourself, if he had been afraid; and if you had been in Mr Paton’s place, you would have delivered my commissions yourself, as they tended to do several persons justice.” I asked him, “Pray, Cool, who informed you that I talked at that rate?” to which he answered, “You must know that we are acquainted with many things that the living know nothing about; these things you did say, and much more to that purpose, and deliver my commissions to my loving wife.” Upon this I said, “’Tis a pity, Cool, that you who know so many things should not know the difference between an absolute and conditional promise; I did, indeed, at the time you mention, blame Mr Paton, for I thought him justly blamable, in hindering the lad to meet with you, and if I had been in his place, I would have acted quite the reverse; but I did never say, that if you would come to Innerwick and employ me, that I would go all the way to Dumfries on such an errand; that is what never so much as entered into my thoughts.” He answered, “What were your thoughts I don’t pretend to know, but I can depend on my information these were your words. But I see you are in some disorder; I will wait upon you when you have more presence of mind.”
By this time we were at James Dickson’s enclosure, below the churchyard; and when I was recollecting in my mind, if ever I had spoken these words he alleged, he broke off from me through the churchyard, with greater violence than any man on horseback is capable of, with such a singing and buzzing noise, as put me in greater disorder than I was in all the time I was with him. I came to my house, and my wife observed more than ordinary paleness in my countenance, and alleged that something ailed me. I called for a dram, and told her I was a little uneasy. After I found myself a little refreshed, I went to my closet to meditate on this most astonishing adventure.
Upon the 5th of March 1722, being at Harehead, baptizing the shepherd’s child, I came off about sunsetting, and near William White’s march, the Laird of Cool came up with me as formerly; and after his first salutation bade me not be afraid. I told him I was not in the least afraid, in the name of God and Christ my Saviour, that he would do me the least harm; for I knew that He in whom I trusted was stronger than all they put together; and if any of them should attempt to do, even to the horse that I ride upon, as you have done to Doctor Menzies’ man, I have free access to complain to my Lord and Master, to the lash to whose resentment you are as liable now as before.
Cool. You need not multiply words on that head, for you are safe with me; and safer, if safer can be, than when I was alive.