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Scenes from an Artist's Life
Chapter 4
'O whisky, soul o' plays and pranks!" BURNS.
JAMUCK DESIRES A CASK - HE GETS IT AND LOSES IT - A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE IN DUNDONALD CASTLE - THE CONSPIRITOR'S MAKE A NARROW ESCAPE IN THE PIT - THE SMALL KNIFE - THE VILLAGE POET'S PORTRAIT OF JAMUCK - WHISKY AS A CHEMICAL MANURE- WAR PRICES IN THE OLDEN TIME.
THE contents of the cask carried from the manse that
morning were dealt out freely, and took the feet and senses from
a number of swallowers, who did not know when the day was
done, or when or where they went to bed.
Jamuck Rowat had a taste o't; and so much did he relish it that
he remarked to some acquaintances that he would like to have a
cask to himself. If he only knew where any of the other nine
were hidden, he would by all means try and get one of them
home. Bead 19 and the smell of peat reek was the standard, and
as mild as new milk, yet so in to keep your feet with after you
came out to the air.
This desire of Jamuek's got vent among a core who thought it
was a pity but such an innocent request should be gratified.
Arrangements were therefore made that the yearnings of a
simple soul should be satisfied to the full.
Ten young men of the village joined in concert, each to play
his part, or rather to play in pairs. The first start was to inform
Jamuck that the Highlandmen had been seen near to the ruins of
Auld Daddie's house, and it was thought that they were looking
out a place to hide part of a cargo of whisky. Jamuek fired at the
idea. " We'll go this very night." A ten-gallon cask had been
borrowed, and saturated well round the bung with the real stuff,
although the interior was nearly full of water. Jamuck,
Johnny Wallace, and Jock McLean, under cloud of night, reached
the hallowed precincts of the ruins of Auld Hin's house, and first
looking cautiously around for fear some of the Highlandmen
might be guarding their treasure, the two wily cronies, each taking
a hand of the anxious inquirer, naturally led him against a cask. It
was dark. Jamuck down on his knees, smelt the bung, swore that it
was double strong, grappled with the prize as the legitimate finder,
and volunteered to carry the cask home to his brother's house,
there to disembowel the contents, which he already had begun to
divide in bottles - so much for flittings so much for blythemeats,
and the rest for a jollification. Like a true prize-holder, he never
for a moment consulted any of the two who they would wish to
partake with them. Johnny and Jock were looking round with
prudent care, lest Highlandmen might catch them unawares.
Various surmises were made by them as if in great fear, all to
excite the hero of the drama. But no; he held on dividing, finding
his liberality so great at times that he had to call a halt in his own
imagination, in case there might not' be enough in the cask. To
the horror of the whole group, when near the Hailee yett an
imitation Highlander, in the shape of young Lowrie Cobrun,
shouted from within the hedge to "lay down the cask," and next
moment a shot of no ordinary charge was poured forth on the
stillness of the night. An extra charge of powder had been put in,
with a spittle on the top to damp the interior of the barrel. It
might have proved disastrous, as the gun burst and flew out of
Lowrie's grasp. Will Tamson and Jamie Lambie were Highlanders
also. With wild yells they came forth to the road, where the
prize-holder and the other two had taken to flight. Jamuck, in
desperation, flung the cask into the dyke-sheugh, with the intent
of staving it in; then all three made for the road before the gun
was fired. After the gun went off Johnny Wallace fell in the ditch,
and passed for slain. Jamuck and Jock M'Lean had a race for life
down the Porterston Brae and into the brother's house, where the
contents of the cask were to have been divided.
On seeing the light our hero fainted, and was long in coming to
himself. His first grief was the loss of the whisky, his next
the doubt as to whether poor Johnny was killed or only wounded.
Rab Brown and Tam, two brothers, who had also acted as
Highlanders, went into the scene of terror and disappointment
with all the simplicity of ignorance, sympathised with poor
Jamuck, and kindly offered to be of service in any way for the
behoof of the killed or wounded, but were told of the danger
attending on going up the hill to look for Johnny as a forlorn
hope; there were such a band of Highlanders with their blood up
and firearms in their possession, they might also be shot in the
dark without the privilege of knowing who did it. A bottle of
whisky was sent for, and by its kindly application to Rowat's
internal wounds, which were only those of feeling, all was
smoothed over for the night; but the fate of Johnny Wallace still
lay enveloped in darkness.
Johnny had gone home with Jamie Lambie, who bored
Johnny's old hat and indented five pieces of slug lead, keeping
them carefully above the region of the crown of the head.
Johnny, being a bachelor, lived in a house by himself, which
house was vacated for the night to keep up the suspense till the
morning, when he made his appearance, and gave great relations
of his fainting, coming to himself, and terror to leave the place
of his fall for fear of being made prisoner by the savages. Rowat
looked at the hat, then in the face of poor Johnny, remarking
that it was a narrow escape from being hurled into eternity in
one moment.
A week passed, and the wonders of the past were to be kept a
strict secret among themselves, which was the proper way to
secure that Rowat should publish a full, true, 'and particular
account.
This enterprise having been productive of so much
amusement, a second raid on hidden treasure was projected.
When everything was arranged, notice was given to Rowat that
the Highlandmen had been seen up at the auld castle, and that
one of them had been seen coming out of the pit, an
underground vault with two apertures. Midnight was held to be
the best time for a visit. Johnnie and Jock McLean were again
the companions in the search, and on arriving at the
mouth of the pit a consultation took place as to who would go
in, when it was decided that Rowat, the lucky finder of the last
cask, should have the honour conferred on him. So in he went
like a badger; and, going in at the narrow entrance, he was
received with a severe pummelling with sticks. Rab Brown and
Tam Loudon were inside, and their reception of the would-be
whisky proprietor was the north side o' friendliness. They
thought that a rapid retreat and a race down hill would be the
result.
However, a different spirit fired the breast of the hero, who,
when he had scrambled out, stern foremost, shouted to his
companions to stand by him "Gather stones, bring them to the
mouth of the cavern, and I will land the smugglers, whisky and
all, in eternity in a short time." The two prepared to run,
thinking that he would follow; but no, his blood was up, and to
eternity the inmates of the pit must travel. He gathered stones
and heaped them up at both entrances, and then, after having a
stock of ammunition to storm the garrison, in went one,
followed by an invitation to leave this region and find a lower.
With a rapidity astonishing to the prisoners inside the stones
came in, striking fire off each other, and flavouring the vault
with something like the fear of death. As there was only one
corner where the pair was safe from the fire of the enemy, there
they sat in solemn silence. Rab Brown, although strong in the
nerve, felt that he would rather have been elsewhere. As they sat
mute together, Rab said that it affected him much to hear the
heart of the tailor dunt, dunting, quite audibly. Rowat at times
took a rest, and in slipping across the top from one hole to the
other, his footfall gave notice where the next bullet would come
from. Sometimes he lay listening; and as he was a heavy snuffer,
they heard the jerk of his nose.
He had begun to think that he had silenced the fiends, and
ventured to look into the pit. Rab Brown held a thumping stone
in his hand, with which he let fly, regardless as had been the
disposition of the outside force, which stone struck Rowat on the
breast with a thud. He first gave a " Heigh!" then exclaimed, "
Fire away, you Highland vagabonds; what's left of you will soon
be destroyed." However, the pain of the blow stole over Jamie's heart,
and at three o'clock in the morning he beat a retreat home.
M'Lean and Johnny had lost all power and presence of mind.
They felt assured that the occupants of the pit had ceased to
exist. Will Tamson, who was on the top of the arch to be a
spectator of the sport, grew bewildered, and came out a dangerous
way along the wall and on to the top of the Barnkin Wall, and
there he lay unable to save himself or any other. He had at one
time reasoned with himself that if he had been favoured with a
stone, and power to act, he might have felled the excited
assailant of the pit.
When Rowat rose next morning, his first visit was to Davie
Murray's, where the fearful tragedy was revealed. He was sure
that the pit was crammed with dead Highlandmen, hurled into
eternity by his heroic hand. Davie reasoned with him on the
awfulness of his crime; but the only reply was, that had Johnny
and M'Lean not been cowards, he would have had the whisky for
his trouble;
A deputation was assembled and the pit visited with the
intention of looking after the killed and wounded; but upon
arriving at the scene of action all was silent-blood was looked
for in vain, scarce to the satisfaction of Rowat, who thought he
had a right to kill and capture.
The whole plot was soon divulged by some one to Rowat, who
swore destruction to certain persons, particularly to Johnny
Wallace, on whose carcase the small pointed knife was to be
tried. With that intention the knife was carried about; and one
evening when Johnny was standing among a few more on the
street Rowat marched forward, and with marked emphasis said,
"Johnny, I want to speak to you, my man." Johnny took to his
heels, and down the village and through the Fisher's Fauld,
crossing which field Rowat fell, and had a narrow escape from
the small knife which he held in his hand.
The rest of the actors saw that something serious might come
out of their diversion; so they came upon Rowat and, as it were,
took him prisoner as an attempted murderer. They went to John
Orr's, had a dram, and had Johnny Wallace and Rowat
confronted. Rowat hailed him as a coward for running.
However, Johnny told him that it was just as
well for him that he had fallen, as he only intended running to
the stone dyke, lifting a large stone from its top, and with it
knocking his brains out. Rowat had never once thought of such a
step being taken against him. However, peace was restored, and a'
bygones were to be forgiven.
Rowat was famed as a teacher of starling birds, which at that
time were rare in this country. He laboured faithfully to make
them prodigies of learning, and was very successful. Charlie
Lockhart, the village poet, sang his praise as a bird teacher. Be
says of his power in that line-
" He learns the vera birds
To whistle tunes and chatter words.
I've heard them say, without a joke,
That Richard is a pretty cock;
Then bid the waiter to be handy
And bring them ben a glass of brandy."
Charlie's poetic biography, to those who knew Rowat, is good,
there is so much of it runs the reverse of what it means. They
who knew the man could see a full-length portrait of him, and
put every feature in its place to suit themselves. One touch as to
Jamuck's newsvending power runs thus:-
" He's no like some conceited hashes,
That rin frae house to house wi' clashes;
Nor through the kintra rins on Sunday,
For news to spread abroad on Monday."
The application of whisky is by some recommended for every
trouble, and nothing in this country is the cause of so much
misery, and mockery of high pretensions. It levels all
distinctions. It is a rapid vegetating chemical manure, when
properly applied. If it should not procure heavier crops, it may at
least raise the value of land. In the spring of 1813, some grass
parks in the vicinity of the village of Dundonald were to be sold
by public roup for two years' tillage. The white land, as it was
termed, was made whiter by snow having fallen to the depth of
some inches. The land belonged to Lady Mary Montgomerie;
John Dunlop was at that time her factor. The roup being
properly advertised, a respectable group of people met on the
snow. The auctioneer read the articles of the roup,
then made an attempt to sell the use of
the land for the ensuing two years. Every feeling seemed asleep.
There seemed no hope in the crowd. Slowly a few bodes were
given for the first lot, which stuck at three pounds fifteen by the
acre. The factor grew incensed at their stubborn heartlessness,
and in wrath ordered the audience to go about their business. He
spoke to them like one who had received a personal insult. The
people were moving off, when Rab Brown stepped forward to
Dunlop, and in his jocular way said, " You couldna expect the
folk to offer you the price of good ground for fields of snaw. Gie
them a glass or twa o' whisky, and you will soon observe that
they will see through the snaw. Allow me to cry them back, and
order twa jars o' whisky frae Sarah Reid. The cauld folk, when
ance warmed, will then pay baith Sarah and you." Dunlop bade
Rab to try his experiment, since his had failed. Rab gave a joyous
"Hallo!" asked the people to stay, as Mr Dunlop was but in fun;
he wished to give them a dram before parting. The whisky was
sent for, and a double round applied, which, owing to the cold,
was somewhat slow in action. After a little diversion, Rab said
that they could gang awa' hame noo. He said he was sure that
some of them knew what sort of ground they stood on; but every
one could not see through snaw. He would like to see what they
would give for one lot before leaving.
The auctioneer was set at it again, and what Stuck at £3 15s
went up as far as £5 5s. That was worth another round, which
was followed by other rounds, till heads went round and rents
went high. Up went the value of land, not as seen through snow,
but as seen through whisky. My auld master bought the last lot
but one at £12 10s. an acre; and he who bought the last lot lay
on his back and bade lofty- " Twelve guineas !"
Such was the result of stimulating the man instead of the
ground with chemical manure.
Some of the landowners for the two years could scarce believe
their senses when the dream had passed. Yet strange to say, such
was the state of things that it paid well enough, as markets were
high. Napoleon Bonaparte had come out of Elba, fought at Waterloo,
and kept war prices alive. At his fall down came the markets,
on went the Corn Bill. The Landowners' Strike, as it might be termed,
commenced in 1816. Other Unionists murmured for the space of thirty years,
till the Anti-Corn Law League and the potato disease caused its
death, after a selfish and disgraceful life.