I had felt a glow of increasing heat, and could perceive a stream of light strengthen gradually as we penetrated the thick brush-wood. At first, dazzled by the blaze, objects were more like a confused vision than reality; but presently my eyes became accustomed to the glare, and I found myself surrounded by several huge fires, at which nearly a score of men were busily engaged in illicit distillation. In my mountain walks, I had frequently discovered in some secluded valley a smuggler engaged in this lawless vocation; but the hovel and apparatus were so slightly constructed and so easily removed, that at the first intimation of danger the still was carried off, the fire extinguished, the sheeling torn down, and nothing left but a heap of sods and rubbish to console the gauger on his arrival, by proving that his information had been most correct, and the distillers far too watchful. But here, every thing was constructed on a permanent and extensive scale, which evinced a perfect feeling of security, or the determination, at all risks, of continuing this lawless and demoralizing trade. On furnaces of solid masonry three large stills were working,—numerous wooden vessels were filled with potale,—and sacks of malt and barley, kegs containing spirits, and an abundant supply of peat-fuel, everywhere met the eye. Contiguous to the fires, sundry hovels were erected; the walls of turf, and roofs of heather—designed, it would appear, for the accommodation of a number of swine and their proprietors; and both, in point of comfort, seemed to be on a precise equality. The brute and the biped were indeed happily associated; for the ragged clothes, haggard looks, bleared eyes, and that half-drunken stupidity, which an endless tasting of ardent spirits always produces, showed, as they flitted back and forward in the red and lurid atmosphere, a group of beings that might be safely classed as low even in the lowest grade of civilized society.
My supporters left me, and retired to a cabin apart from the other hovels; while I underwent a careless examination by some swart figures, who occasionally passed me bearing turf to the furnaces. Relieved from a most annoying species of restraint, I felt little apprehension for the future, although the cause for which I had been kidnapped remained as much a mystery as ever. In a few minutes, a man tapped me on the shoulder, and bade me “follow and fear nothing.” I obeyed. He led me to the retired hut whither my quondam friends had gone before; and there I found them quite at their ease, refreshing themselves most liberally after their successful exertions in my arrest and deportation.
It was a rude, but not uncomfortable hovel; cribs and sleeping-places occupying one end, and a fire of charred turf blazing in the other. In the centre stood a rough bench, on which were spread plates of the coarsest delft, an earthen greybeard containing undiluted whisky, a jug of water, and a couple of horn drinking cups; while a tallow candle, stuck in an iron trivet, lighted this uninviting board.
Other objects, and of a very different description, met the eye. In a remote corner of the cabin a score of rusted firelocks were loosely piled; and, on the couples of the rafters, sundry fishing-rods and gaffs, a draft-net, and an eel-spear, were deposited. All indicated a lawless community and wild existence; while a forbidding-looking hag, broiling steaks upon the coals,—which operation a rough and brindled lurcher was contemplating with fixed attention,—completed a strange, but interesting picture of savage life.
“Are you hungry?” inquired one of my abductors, with tolerable civility.
“Not particularly,” I replied; “confinement in a sack does not generally improve the appetite.”
“Were you hurt by the fall?”
“Not much; although I fancy it would have been to you a matter of small consideration whether I broke my neck or scratched my finger.”
“Why, then,” responded the second ruffian; “upon my soul, I should have regretted it; for, to give the devil his due, you took the brook and bridge in sporting style. She’s a sweet mare, that. There was a day I could have ridden her to fortune. I began life, sir, a whipper to Lord Longford.”
“Then, friend, I must in candour tell you, that you have not changed for the better.”