Guy Mannering, Vol. I

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The gentleman who held the office in the shire of---at the time
of this catastrophe was well born and well educated; and, though
somewhat pedantic and professional in his habits, he enjoyed
general respect as an active and intelligent magistrate. His first
employment was to examine all witnesses whose evidence could throw
light upon this mysterious event, and make up the written report,
proces verbal, or precognition, as it is technically called, which
the practice of Scotland has substituted for a coroner's inquest.
Under the Sheriff's minute and skilful inquiry, many circumstances
appeared which seemed incompatible with the original opinion that
Kennedy had accidentally fallen from the cliffs. We shall briefly
detail some of these.

The body had been deposited in a neighbouring fisher-hut, but
without altering the condition in which it was found. This was the
first object of the Sheriff's examination. Though fearfully
crushed and mangled by the fall from such a height, the corpse was
found to exhibit a deep cut in the head, which, in the opinion of
a skilful surgeon, must have been inflicted by a broadsword or
cutlass. The experience of this gentleman discovered other
suspicious indications. The face was much blackened, the eyes
distorted, and the veins of the neck swelled. A coloured
handkerchief, which the unfortunate man had worn round his neck,
did not present the usual appearance, but was much loosened, and
the knot displaced and dragged extremely tight; the folds were
also compressed, as if it had been used as a means of grappling
the deceased, and dragging him perhaps to the precipice.

On the other hand, poor Kennedy's purse was found untouched; and,
what seemed yet more extraordinary, the pistols which he usually
carried when about to encounter any hazardous adventure were found
in his pockets loaded. This appeared particularly strange, for he
was known and dreaded by the contraband traders as a man equally
fearless and dexterous in the use of his weapons, of which he had
given many signal proofs. The Sheriff inquired whether Kennedy was
not in the practice of carrying any other arms? Most of Mr.
Bertram's servants recollected that he generally had a couteau de
chasse, or short hanger, but none such was found upon the dead
body; nor could those who had seen him on the morning of the fatal
day take it upon them to assert whether he then carried that
weapon or not.

The corpse afforded no other indicia respecting the fate of
Kennedy; for, though the clothes were much displaced and the limbs
dreadfully fractured, the one seemed the probable, the other the
certain, consequences of such a fall. The hands of the deceased
were clenched fast, and full of turf and earth; but this also
seemed equivocal.

The magistrate then proceeded to the place where the corpse was
first discovered, and made those who had found it give, upon the
spot, a particular and detailed account of the manner in which it
was lying. A large fragment of the rock appeared to have
accompanied, or followed, the fall of the victim from the cliff
above. It was of so solid and compact a substance that it had
fallen without any great diminution by splintering; so that the
Sheriff was enabled, first, to estimate the weight by measurement,
and then to calculate, from the appearance of the fragment, what
portion of it had been bedded into the cliff from which it had
descended. This was easily detected by the raw appearance of the
stone where it had not been exposed to the atmosphere. They then
ascended the cliff, and surveyed the place from whence the stony
fragment had fallen. It seemed plain, from the appearance of the
bed, that the mere weight of one man standing upon the projecting
part of the fragment, supposing it in its original situation,
could not have destroyed its balance and precipitated it, with
himself, from the cliff. At the same time, it appeared to have
lain so loose that the use of a lever, or the combined strength of
three or four men, might easily have hurled it from its position.
The short turf about the brink of the precipice was much trampled,
as if stamped by the heels of men in a mortal struggle, or in the
act of some violent exertion. Traces of the same kind, less
visibly marked, guided the sagacious investigator to the verge of
the copsewood, which in that place crept high up the bank towards
the top of the precipice.

With patience and perseverance they traced these marks into the
thickest part of the copse, a route which no person would have
voluntarily adopted, unless for the purpose of concealment. Here
they found plain vestiges of violence and struggling, from space
to space. Small boughs were torn down, as if grasped by some
resisting wretch who was dragged forcibly along; the ground, where
in the least degree soft or marshy, showed the print of many feet;
there were vestiges also which might be those of human blood. At
any rate it was certain that several persons must have forced
their passage among the oaks, hazels, and underwood with which
they were mingled; and in some places appeared traces as if a sack
full of grain, a dead body, or something of that heavy and solid
description, had been dragged along the ground. In one part of the
thicket there was a small swamp, the clay of which was whitish,
being probably mixed with marl. The back of Kennedy's coat
appeared besmeared with stains of the same colour.

At length, about a quarter of a mile from the brink of the fatal
precipice, the traces conducted them to a small open space of
ground, very much trampled, and plainly stained with blood,
although withered leaves had been strewed upon the spot, and other
means hastily taken to efface the marks, which seemed obviously to
have been derived from a desperate affray. On one side of this
patch of open ground was found the sufferer's naked hanger, which
seemed to have been thrown into the thicket; on the other, the
belt and sheath, which appeared to have been hidden with more
leisurely care and precaution.

The magistrate caused the footprints which marked this spot to be
carefully measured and examined. Some corresponded to the foot of
the unhappy victim; some were larger, some less; indicating that
at least four or five men had been busy around him. Above all,
here, and here only, were observed the vestiges of a child's foot;
and as it could be seen nowhere else, and the hard horse-track
which traversed the wood of Warroch was contiguous to the spot, it
was natural to think that the boy might have escaped in that
direction during the confusion. But, as he was never heard of, the
Sheriff, who made a careful entry of all these memoranda, did not
suppress his opinion, that the deceased had met with foul play,
and that the murderers, whoever they were, had possessed
themselves of the person of the child Harry Bertram.

Every exertion was now made to discover the criminals. Suspicion
hesitated between the smugglers and the gipsies. The fate of Dirk
Hatteraick's vessel was certain. Two men from the opposite side of
Warroch Bay (so the inlet on the southern side of the Point of
Warroch is called) had seen, though at a great distance, the
lugger drive eastward, after doubling the headland, and, as they
judged from her manoeuvres, in a disabled state. Shortly after,
they perceived that she grounded, smoked, and finally took fire.
She was, as one of them expressed himself, 'in a light low'
(bright flame) when they observed a king's ship, with her colours
up, heave in sight from behind the cape. The guns of the burning
vessel discharged themselves as the fire reached them; and they
saw her at length blow up with a great explosion. The sloop of war
kept aloof for her own safety; and, after hovering till the other
exploded, stood away southward under a press of sail. The Sheriff
anxiously interrogated these men whether any boats had left the
vessel. They could not say, they had seen none; but they might
have put off in such a direction as placed the burning vessel, and
the thick smoke which floated landward from it, between their
course and the witnesses' observation.

That the ship destroyed was Dirk Hatteraick's no one doubted. His
lugger was well known on the coast, and had been expected just at
this time. A letter from the commander of the king's sloop, to
whom the Sheriff made application, put the matter beyond doubt; he
sent also an extract from his log-book of the transactions of the
day, which intimated their being on the outlook for a smuggling
lugger, Dirk Hatteraick master, upon the information and
requisition of Francis Kennedy, of his Majesty's excise service;
and that Kennedy was to be upon the outlook on the shore, in case
Hatteraick, who was known to be a desperate fellow, and had been
repeatedly outlawed, should attempt to run his sloop aground.
About nine o'clock A.M. they discovered a sail which answered the
description of Hatteraick's vessel, chased her, and, after
repeated signals to her to show colours and bring-to, fired upon
her. The chase then showed Hamburgh colours and returned the fire;
and a running fight was maintained for three hours, when, just as
the lugger was doubling the Point of Warroch, they observed that
the main-yard was shot in the slings, and that the vessel was
disabled. It was not in the power of the man-of-war's men for some
time to profit by this circumstance, owing to their having kept
too much in shore for doubling the headland. After two tacks, they
accomplished this, and observed the chase on fire and apparently
deserted. The fire having reached some casks of spirits, which
were placed on the deck, with other combustibles, probably on
purpose, burnt with such fury that no boats durst approach the
vessel, especially as her shotted guns were discharging one after
another by the heat. The captain had no doubt whatever that the
crew had set the vessel on fire and escaped in their boats. After
watching the conflagration till the ship blew up, his Majesty's
sloop, the Shark, stood towards the Isle of Man, with the purpose
of intercepting the retreat of the smugglers, who, though they
might conceal themselves in the woods for a day or two, would
probably take the first opportunity of endeavouring to make for
this asylum. But they never saw more of them than is above
narrated.

Such was the account given by William Pritchard, master and
commander of his Majesty's sloop of war, Shark, who concluded by
regretting deeply that he had not had the happiness to fall in
with the scoundrels who had had the impudence to fire on his
Majesty's flag, and with an assurance that, should he meet Mr.
Dirk Hatteraick in any future cruise, he would not fail to bring
him into port under his stern, to answer whatever might be alleged
against him.

As, therefore, it seemed tolerably certain that the men on board
the lugger had escaped, the death of Kennedy, if he fell in with
them in the woods, when irritated by the loss of their vessel and
by the share he had in it, was easily to be accounted for. And it
was not improbable that to such brutal tempers, rendered desperate
by their own circumstances, even the murder of the child, against
whose father, as having become suddenly active in the prosecution
of smugglers, Hatteraick was known to have uttered deep threats,
would not appear a very heinous crime.

Against this hypothesis it was urged that a crew of fifteen or
twenty men could not have lain hidden upon the coast, when so
close a search took place immediately after the destruction of
their vessel; or, at least, that if they had hid themselves in the
woods, their boats must have been seen on the beach; that in such
precarious circumstances, and when all retreat must have seemed
difficult if not impossible, it was not to be thought that they
would have all united to commit a useless murder for the mere sake
of revenge. Those who held this opinion supposed either that the
boats of the lugger had stood out to sea without being observed by
those who were intent upon gazing at the burning vessel, and so
gained safe distance before the sloop got round the headland; or
else that, the boats being staved or destroyed by the fire of the
Shark during the chase, the crew had obstinately determined to
perish with the vessel. What gave some countenance to this
supposed act of desperation was, that neither Dirk Hatteraick nor
any of his sailors, all well-known men in the fair trade, were
again seen upon that coast, or heard of in the Isle of Man, where
strict inquiry was made. On the other hand, only one dead body,
apparently that of a seaman killed by a cannon-shot, drifted
ashore. So all that could be done was to register the names,
description, and appearance of the individuals belonging to the
ship's company, and offer a reward for the apprehension of them,
or any one of them, extending also to any person, not the actual
murderer, who should give evidence tending to convict those who
had murdered Francis Kennedy.

Another opinion, which was also plausibly supported, went to
charge this horrid crime upon the late tenants of Derncleugh. They
were known to have resented highly the conduct of the Laird of
Ellangowan towards them, and to have used threatening expressions,
which every one supposed them capable of carrying into effect. The
kidnapping the child was a crime much more consistent with their
habits than with those of smugglers, and his temporary guardian
might have fallen in an attempt to protect him. Besides, it was
remembered that Kennedy had been an active agent, two or three
days before, in the forcible expulsion of these people from
Derncleugh, and that harsh and menacing language had been
exchanged between him and some of the Egyptian patriarchs on that
memorable occasion.

The Sheriff received also the depositions of the unfortunate
father and his servant, concerning what had passed at their
meeting the caravan of gipsies as they left the estate of
Ellangowan. The speech of Meg Merrilies seemed particularly
suspicious. There was, as the magistrate observed in his law
language, damnum minatum--a damage, or evil turn, threatened--and
malum secutum--an evil of the very kind predicted shortly
afterwards following. A young woman, who had been gathering nuts
in Warroch wood upon the fatal day, was also strongly of opinion,
though she declined to make positive oath, that she had seen Meg
Merrilies--at least a woman of her remarkable size and appearance
--start suddenly out of a thicket; she said she had called to her
by name, but, as the figure turned from her and made no answer,
she was uncertain if it were the gipsy or her wraith, and was
afraid to go nearer to one who was always reckoned, in the vulgar
phrase, 'no canny.' This vague story received some corroboration
from the circumstance of a fire being that evening found in the
gipsy's deserted cottage. To this fact Ellangowan and his gardener
bore evidence. Yet it seemed extravagant to suppose that, had this
woman been accessory to such a dreadful crime, she would have
returned, that very evening on which it was committed, to the
place of all others where she was most likely to be sought after.

Meg Merrilies was, however, apprehended and examined. She denied
strongly having been either at Derncleugh or in the wood of
Warroch upon the day of Kennedy's death; and several of her tribe
made oath in her behalf, that she had never quitted their
encampment, which was in a glen about ten miles distant from
Ellangowan. Their oaths were indeed little to be trusted to; but
what other evidence could be had in the circumstances? There was
one remarkable fact, and only one, which arose from her
examination. Her arm appeared to be slightly wounded by the cut of
a sharp weapon, and was tied up with a handkerchief of Harry
Bertram's. But the chief of the horde acknowledged he had
'corrected her' that day with his whinger; she herself, and
others, gave the same account of her hurt; and for the
handkerchief, the quantity of linen stolen from Ellangowan during
the last months of their residence on the estate easily accounted
for it, without charging Meg with a more heinous crime.

It was observed upon her examination that she treated the
questions respecting the death of Kennedy, or 'the gauger,' as she
called him, with indifference; but expressed great and emphatic
scorn and indignation at being supposed capable of injuring little
Harry Bertram. She was long confined in jail, under the hope that
something might yet be discovered to throw light upon this dark
and bloody transaction. Nothing, however, occurred; and Meg was at
length liberated, but under sentence of banishment from the county
as a vagrant, common thief, and disorderly person. No traces of
the boy could ever be discovered; and at length the story, after
making much noise, was gradually given up as altogether
inexplicable, and only perpetuated by the name of 'The Gauger's
Loup,' which was generally bestowed on the cliff from which the
unfortunate man had fallen or been precipitated.

CHAPTER XI

ENTER TIME, AS CHORUS
I, that please some, try all, both joy and terror
Of good and bad; that make and unfold error,
Now take upon me, in the name of Time,
To use my wings Impute it not a crime
To me, or my swift passage, that I slide
O'er sixteen years, and leave the growth untried
Of that wide gap.

Winter's Tale.

Our narration is now about to make a large stride, and omit a
space of nearly seventeen years; during which nothing occurred of
any particular consequence with respect to the story we have
undertaken to tell. The gap is a wide one; yet if the reader's
experience in life enables him to look back on so many years, the
space will scarce appear longer in his recollection than the time
consumed in turning these pages.

It was, then, in the month of November, about seventeen years
after the catastrophe related in the last chapter, that, during a
cold and stormy night, a social group had closed around the
kitchen-fire of the Gordon Arms at Kippletringan, a small but
comfortable inn kept by Mrs. Mac-Candlish in that village. The
conversation which passed among them will save me the trouble of
telling the few events occurring during this chasm in our history,
with which it is necessary that the reader should be acquainted.

Mrs. Mac-Candlish, throned in a comfortable easychair lined with
black leather, was regaling herself and a neighbouring gossip or
two with a cup of genuine tea, and at the same time keeping a
sharp eye upon her domestics, as they went and came in prosecution
of their various duties and commissions. The clerk and precentor
of the parish enjoyed at a little distance his Saturday night's
pipe, and aided its bland fumigation by an occasional sip of
brandy and water. Deacon Bearcliff, a man of great importance in
the village, combined the indulgence of both parties: he had his
pipe and his tea-cup, the latter being laced with a little
spirits. One or two clowns sat at some distance, drinking their
twopenny ale.

'Are ye sure the parlour's ready for them, and the fire burning
clear, and the chimney no smoking?' said the hostess to a
chambermaid.

She was answered in the affirmative. 'Ane wadna be uncivil to
them, especially in their distress,' said she, turning to the
Deacon.

'Assuredly not, Mrs. Mac-Candlish; assuredly not. I am sure ony
sma' thing they might want frae my shop, under seven, or eight, or
ten pounds, I would book them as readily for it as the first in
the country. Do they come in the auld chaise?'

'I daresay no,' said the precentor; 'for Miss Bertram comes on the
white powny ilka day to the kirk--and a constant kirk-keeper she
is--and it's a pleasure to hear her singing the psalms, winsome
young thing.'

'Ay, and the young Laird of Hazlewood rides hame half the road wi'
her after sermon,' said one of the gossips in company. 'I wonder
how auld Hazlewood likes that.'

'I kenna how he may like it now,' answered another of the tea-
drinkers; 'but the day has been when Ellangowan wad hae liked as
little to see his daughter taking up with their son.'

'Ay, has been,' answered the first, with somewhat of emphasis.

'I am sure, neighbour Ovens,' said the hostess, 'the Hazlewoods of
Hazlewood, though they are a very gude auld family in the county,
never thought, till within these twa score o' years, of evening
themselves till the Ellangowans. Wow, woman, the Bertrams of
Ellangowan are the auld Dingawaies lang syne. There is a sang
about ane o' them marrying a daughter of the King of Man; it
begins--

Blythe Bertram's ta'en him ower the faem,
To wed a wife, and bring her hame--

I daur say Mr. Skreigh can sing us the ballant.'

'Gudewife,' said Skreigh, gathering up his mouth, and sipping his
tiff of brandy punch with great solemnity, 'our talents were gien
us to other use than to sing daft auld sangs sae near the Sabbath
day.'

'Hout fie, Mr. Skreigh; I'se warrant I hae heard you sing a blythe
sang on Saturday at e'en before now. But as for the chaise,
Deacon, it hasna been out of the coach-house since Mrs. Bertram
died, that's sixteen or seventeen years sin syne. Jock Jabos is
away wi' a chaise of mine for them; I wonder he's no come back.
It's pit mirk; but there's no an ill turn on the road but twa, and
the brigg ower Warroch burn is safe eneugh, if he haud to the
right side. But then there's Heavieside Brae, that's just a murder
for post-cattle; but Jock kens the road brawly.'

A loud rapping was heard at the door.

'That's no them. I dinna hear the wheels. Grizzel, ye limmer, gang
to the door.'

'It's a single gentleman,' whined out Grizzel; 'maun I take him
into the parlour?'

'Foul be in your feet, then; it'll be some English rider. Coming
without a servant at this time o' night! Has the hostler ta'en the
horse? Ye may light a spunk o' fire in the red room.'

'I wish, ma'am,' said the traveller, entering the kitchen, 'you
would give me leave to warm myself here, for the night is very
cold.'

His appearance, voice, and manner produced an instantaneous effect
in his favour. He was a handsome, tall, thin figure, dressed in
black, as appeared when he laid aside his riding-coat; his age
might be between forty and fifty; his cast of features grave and
interesting, and his air somewhat military. Every point of his
appearance and address bespoke the gentleman. Long habit had given
Mrs. Mac-Candlish an acute tact in ascertaining the quality of her
visitors, and proportioning her reception accordingly:--

To every guest the appropriate speech was made,
And every duty with distinction paid;
Respectful, easy, pleasant, or polite--
'Your honour's servant!' 'Mister Smith, good-night.'

On the present occasion she was low in her courtesy and profuse in
her apologies. The stranger begged his horse might be attended to:
she went out herself to school the hostler.

'There was never a prettier bit o' horse-flesh in the stable o'
the Gordon Arms,' said the man, which information increased the
landlady's respect for the rider. Finding, on her return, that the
stranger declined to go into another apartment (which, indeed, she
allowed, would be but cold and smoky till the fire bleezed up),
she installed her guest hospitably by the fireside, and offered
what refreshment her house afforded.

'A cup of your tea, ma'am, if you will favour me.'

Mrs. Mac-Candlish bustled about, reinforced her teapot with hyson,
and proceeded in her duties with her best grace. 'We have a very
nice parlour, sir, and everything very agreeable for gentlefolks;
but it's bespoke the night for a gentleman and his daughter that
are going to leave this part of the country; ane of my chaises is
gane for them, and will be back forthwith. They're no sae weel in
the warld as they have been; but we're a' subject to ups and downs
in this life, as your honour must needs ken,--but is not the
tobacco-reek disagreeable to your honour?'

'By no means, ma'am; I am an old campaigner, and perfectly used to
it. Will you permit me to make some inquiries about a family in
this neighbourhood?'

The sound of wheels was now heard, and the landlady hurried to the
door to receive her expected guests; but returned in an instant,
followed by the postilion. 'No, they canna come at no rate, the
Laird's sae ill.'

'But God help them,' said the landlady, 'the morn's the term, the
very last day they can bide in the house; a' thing's to be
roupit.'

'Weel, but they can come at no rate, I tell ye; Mr. Bertram canna
be moved.'

'What Mr. Bertram?' said the stranger; 'not Mr. Bertram of
Ellangowan, I hope?'

'Just e'en that same, sir; and if ye be a friend o' his, ye have
come at a time when he's sair bested.'

'I have been abroad for many years,--is his health so much
deranged?'

'Ay, and his affairs an' a',' said the Deacon; 'the creditors have
entered into possession o' the estate, and it's for sale; and some
that made the maist by him--I name nae names, but Mrs. Mac-
Candlish kens wha I mean (the landlady shook her head
significantly)--they're sairest on him e'en now. I have a sma'
matter due myself, but I would rather have lost it than gane to
turn the auld man out of his house, and him just dying.'

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