Catriona by Robert Louis Stevenson (important books to read .TXT) 📗
- Author: Robert Louis Stevenson
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“Good guide us!” cried I, “what kind of daft-like proceeding is this, to let yourself be launched on the continent of Europe with an empty purse—I count it hardly decent—scant decent!” I cried.
“You forget James More, my father, is a poor gentleman,” said she. “He is a hunted exile.”
“But I think not all your friends are hunted exiles,” I exclaimed. “And was this fair to them that care for you? Was it fair to me? was it fair to Miss Grant that counselled you to go, and would be driven fair horn-mad if she could hear of it? Was it even fair to these Gregory folk that you were living with, and used you lovingly? It’s a blessing you have fallen in my hands! Suppose your father hindered by an accident, what would become of you here, and you your lee-lone in a strange place? The thought of the thing frightens me,” I said.
“I will have lied to all of them,” she replied. “I will have told them all that I had plenty. I told her too. I could not be lowering James More to them.”
I found out later on that she must have lowered him in the very dust, for the lie was originally the father’s, not the daughter’s, and she thus obliged to persevere in it for the man’s reputation. But at the time I was ignorant of this, and the mere thought of her destitution and the perils in which see must have fallen, had ruffled me almost beyond reason.
“Well, well, well,” said I, “you will have to learn more sense.”
I left her mails for the moment in an inn upon the shore, where I got a direction for Sprott’s house in my new French, and we walked there—it was some little way—beholding the place with wonder as we went. Indeed, there was much for Scots folk to admire: canals and trees being intermingled with the houses; the houses, each within itself, of a brave red brick, the colour of a rose, with steps and benches of blue marble at the cheek of every door, and the whole town so clean you might have dined upon the causeway. Sprott was within, upon his ledgers, in a low parlour, very neat and clean, and set out with china and pictures, and a globe of the earth in a brass frame. He was a big-chafted, ruddy, lusty man, with a crooked hard look to him; and he made us not that much civility as offer us a seat.
“Is James More Macgregor now in Helvoet, sir?” says I.
“I ken nobody by such a name,” says he, impatient-like.
“Since you are so particular,” says I, “I will amend my question, and ask you where we are to find in Helvoet one James Drummond, alias Macgregor, alias James More, late tenant in Inveronachile?”
“Sir,” says he, “he may be in Hell for what I ken, and for my part I wish he was.”
“The young lady is that gentleman’s daughter, sir,” said I, “before whom, I think you will agree with me, it is not very becoming to discuss his character.”
“I have nothing to make either with him, or her, or you!” cries he in his gross voice.
“Under your favour, Mr. Sprott,” said I, “this young lady is come from Scotland seeking him, and by whatever mistake, was given the name of your house for a direction. An error it seems to have been, but I think this places both you and me—who am but her fellow-traveller by accident—under a strong obligation to help our countrywoman.”
“Will you ding me daft?” he cries. “I tell ye I ken naething and care less either for him or his breed. I tell ye the man owes me money.”
“That may very well be, sir,” said I, who was now rather more angry than himself. “At least, I owe you nothing; the young lady is under my protection; and I am neither at all used with these manners, nor in the least content with them.”
As I said this, and without particularly thinking what I did, I drew a step or two nearer to his table; thus striking, by mere good fortune, on the only argument that could at all affect the man. The blood left his lusty countenance.
“For the Lord’s sake dinna be hasty, sir!” he cried. “I am truly wishfu’ no to be offensive. But ye ken, sir, I’m like a wheen guid-natured, honest, canty auld fellows—my bark is waur nor my bite. To hear me, ye micht whiles fancy I was a wee thing dour; but na, na! it’s a kind auld fallow at heart, Sandie Sprott! And ye could never imagine the fyke and fash this man has been to me.”
“Very good, sir,” said I. “Then I will make that much freedom with your kindness as trouble you for your last news of Mr. Drummond.”
“You’re welcome, sir!” said he. “As for the young leddy (my respects to her!), he’ll just have clean forgotten her. I ken the man, ye see; I have lost siller by him ere now. He thinks of naebody but just himsel’; clan, king, or dauchter, if he can get his wameful, he would give them a’ the go-by! ay, or his correspondent either. For there is a sense in whilk I may be nearly almost said to be his correspondent. The fact is, we are employed thegether in a business affair, and I think it’s like to turn out a dear affair for Sandie Sprott. The man’s as guid’s my pairtner, and I give ye my mere word I ken naething by where he is. He micht be coming here to Helvoet; he micht come here the morn, he michtnae come for a twalmouth; I would wonder at naething—or just at the ae thing, and that’s if he was to pay me my siller. Ye see what way I stand with it; and it’s clear I’m no very likely to meddle up with the young leddy, as ye ca’ her. She cannae stop here, that’s ae thing certain sure. Dod, sir, I’m a lone man! If I was to tak her in, its highly possible the hellicat would try and gar me marry her when he turned up.”
“Enough of this talk,” said I. “I will take the young leddy among better friends. Give me, pen, ink, and paper, and I will leave here for James More the address of my correspondent in Leyden. He can inquire from me where he is to seek his daughter.”
This word I wrote and sealed; which while I was doing, Sprott of his own motion made a welcome offer, to charge himself with Miss Drummond’s mails, and even send a porter for them to the inn. I advanced him to that effect a dollar or two to be a cover, and he gave me an acknowledgment in writing of the sum.
Whereupon (I giving my arm to Catriona) we left the house of this unpalatable rascal. She had said no word throughout, leaving me to judge and speak in her place; I, upon my side, had been careful not to embarrass her by a glance; and even now, although my heart still glowed inside of me with shame and anger, I made it my affair to seem quite easy.
“Now,” said I, “let us get back to yon same inn where they can speak the French, have a piece of dinner, and inquire for conveyances to Rotterdam. I will never be easy till I have you safe again in the hands of Mrs. Gebbie.”
“I suppose it will have to be,” said Catriona, “though whoever will be pleased, I do not think it will be her. And I will remind you this once again that I have but one shilling, and three baubees.”
“And just this once again,” said I, “I will remind you it was a blessing that I came alongst with you.”
“What else would I be thinking all this time?” says she, and I thought weighed a little on my arm. “It is you that are the good friend to me.”
TRAVELS IN HOLLAND
The rattel-waggon, which is a kind of a long waggon set with benches, carried us in four hours of travel to the great city of Rotterdam. It was long past dark by then, but the streets were pretty brightly lighted and thronged with wild-like, outlandish characters—bearded Hebrews, black men, and the hordes of courtesans, most indecently adorned with finery and stopping seamen by their very sleeves; the clash of talk about us made our heads to whirl; and what was the most unexpected of all, we appeared to be no more struck with all these foreigners than they with us. I made the best face I could, for the lass’s sake and my own credit; but the truth is I felt like a lost sheep, and my heart beat in my bosom with anxiety. Once or twice I inquired after the harbour or the berth of the ship Rose: but either fell on some who spoke only Hollands, or my own French failed me. Trying a street at a venture, I came upon a lane of lighted houses, the doors and windows thronged with wauf-like painted women; these jostled and mocked upon us as we passed, and I was thankful we had nothing of their language. A little after we issued forth upon an open place along the harbour.
“We shall be doing now,” cries I, as soon as I spied masts. “Let us walk here by the harbour. We are sure to meet some that has the English, and at the best of it we may light upon that very ship.”
We did the next best, as happened; for, about nine of the evening, whom should we walk into the arms of but Captain Sang? He told us they had made their run in the most incredible brief time, the wind holding strong till they reached port; by which means his passengers were all gone already on their further travels. It was impossible to chase after the Gebbies into the High Germany, and we had no other acquaintance to fall back upon but Captain Sang himself. It was the more gratifying to find the man friendly and wishful to assist. He made it a small affair to find some good plain family of merchants, where Catriona might harbour till the Rose was loaden; declared he would then blithely carry her back to Leith for nothing and see her safe in the hands of Mr. Gregory; and in the meanwhile carried us to a late ordinary for the meal we stood in need of. He seemed extremely friendly, as I say, but what surprised me a good deal, rather boisterous in the bargain; and the cause of this was soon to appear. For at the ordinary, calling for Rhenish wine and drinking of it deep, he soon became unutterably tipsy. In this case, as too common with all men, but especially with those of his rough trade, what little sense or manners he possessed deserted him; and he behaved himself so scandalous to the young lady, jesting most ill-favouredly at the figure she had made on the ship’s rail, that I had no resource but carry her suddenly away.
She came out of the ordinary clinging to me close. “Take me away, David,” she said. “You keep me. I am not afraid with you.”
“And have no cause, my little friend!” cried I, and could have found it in my heart to weep.
“Where will you be taking me?” she said again. “Don’t leave me at all events—never leave me.”
“Where am I taking you to?” says I stopping, for I had been staving on ahead in mere blindness. “I must stop and think. But I’ll not leave you, Catriona; the Lord do so to me, and more also, if I should fail or fash you.”
She crept close into me by way of a reply.
“Here,” I said, “is the stillest place we have hit on yet in this busy byke of a city. Let us sit down here under yon tree and consider of our course.”
That tree (which I am little like to forget) stood hard by the harbour side. It was like a black night, but lights were in the houses, and nearer hand in the quiet ships; there was a shining of the city on the one hand, and a buzz hung over it of many thousands walking and talking; on the other, it was dark and the water bubbled on the sides. I spread my cloak upon a builder’s stone, and made her sit there; she would have kept her hold upon me, for she still shook with the late affronts; but I wanted to think clear, disengaged myself, and paced to and fro before her, in the manner
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