Chapter IV
Sir Patrick Spens
"The king sits in Dunfermline town
Drinking the blood-red wine;
'O where shall I get a well-skilled skipper
To sail this new ship of mine?'"
Almost every collection of Scottish songs contains this picturesque old ballad, which refers to a very remote time in Scottish history, probably the end of the thirteenth century. King Alexander III. of Scotland died in 1285; he had the bitter grief of seeing all his children die before him. His daughter Margaret had been married to Eric, King of Norway, and she left a daughter also called Margaret, and known as the "Maid of Norway." This maid was now heiress to the Scottish throne, and it is natural to suppose that the lonely king should wish her to return to Scotland, and should send a richly appointed ship to fetch her back. And although there is no strictly historical record of such an expedition, the truth of the ballad is made more probable by the fact that it opens in the fine old town of Dunfermline.
Dunfermline was a favourite residence of Alexander, who was killed in its neighbourhood by a fall from his horse, and was buried in the abbey there, the ruins of which beautiful structure still remain.
In this ballad the king is feasting at Dunfermline town, and calls for a skilful mariner to sail his new ship. An old knight at the king's right hand answers that the best sailor who ever sailed the sea is Sir Patrick Spens. So the king writes a letter, sealing it with his own hand, and sends it to Sir Patrick, commanding him to sail away to Norway over the white sea-foam and bring home the maid.
Now every good sailor dreaded the rough Northern seas in winter, so though the brave Sir Patrick laughed aloud when he began to read, he wept blinding tears before he had ended. "Who has done this deed?" he cried; "who has told the king of me and urged him to send us out at this time of the year to sail on the stormy sea? Yet, wind, wet, hail, or sleet, we must set out, for 'tis we who must fetch home the maid."
So they set sail on a Monday morning, and reached Norway on a Wednesday. History tells us that Eric of Norway was very unwilling to part with his daughter. This probably accounts for the fact that the old ballad tells us that the Scotsmen had only been there a fortnight when the lords of Norway began to say that Sir Patrick and his men were spending the gold of their king and queen. "Ye lie," cried Sir Patrick, "loudly I hear ye lie, for I brought with me over the sea enough red gold and white money to supply the wants of my men. Make ready, make ready, my merry men; we will sail at daybreak." "Alack," quoth the men, "a deadly storm is brewing. Yesterday evening the new moon was seen carrying the old moon in her arms; we shall certainly come to harm if we go to sea."
Barely had they sailed three leagues when the sky darkened, the wind blew loudly, and the sea grew boisterous. Soon they were in the midst of a terrible storm. The anger of the sea was far more dreadful than the anger of the lords of Norway. The anchors broke away, the topmasts snapped, and the waves came over the broken ship, tearing her sides asunder. "O where shall I get a good sailor to take the helm while I climb the tall topmast to see if I can espy land?" "That I fear ye never will," cried a sailor as he took the helm, and scarcely had Sir Patrick gone a step when a plank started in the ship's side and the water came pouring in.
"Fetch a web of silken cloth, and fetch a web of twine," cried Sir Patrick, "and cast them down to our ship's side!" For it was the custom in those days, when a leak could not be reached from inside the vessel, to cast down some closely woven stuff in the hope that the suction of the water would drag it across the leak and stop thus the fatal inrush of water. Alas! all their efforts failed. Then the ballad-writer says somewhat grimly of the dandies among the Scottish lords that whereas at first they grumbled to see the water spoil their fine cork-heeled shoes, when the storm had done its fatal work the sea was "above their hats"!