God's Highlander (18 page)

When John Garrett regained his feet he shook off the man who had helped him and dabbed the back of one hand to the spot beside his eye where Alasdair Burns's fist had landed.

‘You'll regret this evening's work, Teacher.' In sharp contrast to his drunken mumblings of a few minutes before, John Garrett now spoke with only a barely discernible slur in his voice. Alasdair Burns's punch had sobered the factor astonishingly quickly. ‘You'll regret it more than anything you've ever done in your unremarkable little life.'

‘Go to bed, Factor, before you insult someone with less restraint than I have.'

Alasdair Burns threw the knife on the table and limped his way from the room as the landlord put in a belated appearance to call on all the parties involved to calm down and enjoy a drink ‘on the house'.

J
OHN GARRETT WAS absent from the Eskaig estate for two weeks. When he returned he seemed well pleased with himself. This news was brought to Eskaig by a villager who had seen the factor land from the weekly boat at Corpach.

The villager was more concerned about the continued absence of Alasdair Burns. The teacher was not in the boat, neither was there a letter from him to explain why he had not returned with the Edinburgh surgeon.

The disappointment of the villagers was coupled with concern by those closest to Jimmy Gordon's family. The sick boy had been greatly heartened by the concern shown to him by Alasdair Burns and the villagers. He was convinced the teacher would bring a surgeon from Edinburgh with a cure for his illness.

As the days became weeks and the young boy began to lose hope, his already serious condition worsened. His weakness became more pronounced, and he needed to be cajoled and bullied into taking an interest in the things going on about him.

The day after John Garrett's return the factor summoned Wyatt and the Eskaig church elders to a meeting at his house. He gave no reason for wanting to speak to them, and speculation was rife among the men as they walked from Eskaig in a cold drizzle which had settled over the loch and the surrounding mountains. It was felt that the factor must have brought important news for the village from Lord Kilmalie's estate office in Edinburgh.

The men were kept waiting in the hallway of John Garrett's impressive home for almost twenty minutes before the factor put in an appearance. Much to Wyatt's surprise Garrett was accompanied by his daughter, and Evangeline apologised to the delegation for keeping them waiting in the hallway.

‘What's this about?' Wyatt asked Evangeline the low-voiced question as her father led the elders to the estate office situated at the rear of the house.

‘I don't know. He just said he wanted me to hear what he has to say. I know no more than you.'

Wyatt was apprehensive. He believed the factor's disclosure might have something to do with the state of Lord Kilmalie's health – and he was convinced it would not be good news.

The factor's disclosure had nothing to do with the landowning peer. When Wyatt and the elders were lined up in front of the factor's desk, John Garrett waved his daughter to a seat beside him. Leaning back in his own chair, he eyed each of the elders in turn before settling his gaze upon Wyatt.

‘I've called you all together because I have some
very
interesting news for you. It concerns the teacher that Minister Jamieson appointed on your behalf.'

The factor seemed to find Wyatt's surprise very satisfying, but it was Elder Cameron who spoke, asking eagerly: ‘You have news of Mr Burns? Is the surgeon coming to Eskaig to see young Jimmy? He's talked of nothing else since his teacher left.'

John Garrett knew nothing of the purpose of Alasdair Burns's mission to the Scots capital. For a moment he appeared puzzled, but almost immediately dismissed the question as being of no importance.

‘I know nothing of any surgeon, but I know a
great
deal about your precious teacher. Do you know he's a gaolbird? He spent two years in prison before coming to Eskaig. He's well known to the authorities in Edinburgh and Glasgow for preaching sedition and trying to sow the seeds of revolution. This is the man who's been allowed to put his ideas into the heads of your children. The man who was chosen to be a teacher by Minister Jamieson. His name's not even Burns, but Anderson.'

The factor leaned further back in his chair, and the face of every man in the room was turned towards Wyatt. Evangeline sat staring in front of her, pale and round-eyed.

‘Alasdair is as entitled to use Burns for his name as Anderson. Both names are his by birthright. As for his past…. I was aware of it when I offered him the post of teacher at the Eskaig school….'

‘A gaolbird,' muttered John Garrett. ‘You employed a
gaolbird
!'

‘A man who went to prison not for wrongdoing, but because he preached sound Christian principles,' said Wyatt firmly. ‘The principle that man is created in God's image and so is entitled to a dignity befitting his status.'

‘It's one thing talking such nonsense here in this room among men sensible enough to know the truth for themselves. It's quite a different matter for a man like Anderson – or Burns, call him what you will – to fill the minds of children with dangerous sedition.'

‘Alasdair Burns has been giving the children of Eskaig an education. The ability to take a worthwhile place in the world in which they'll grow up. He was putting no Chartist ideas in their heads. This was a promise he made to me when I appointed him and he's kept his word – as Evangeline knows. Alasdair Burns is a
fine
teacher. Eskaig is fortunate to have him.'

The fact that Wyatt knew of the teacher's background and was not prepared to make excuses or apologise for his appointment chagrined John Garrett. However, he could see the church elders were less certain of Alasdair Burns's qualities than Wyatt.

‘Well, he'll not teach in Eskaig again. He's back where he belongs – in an Edinburgh gaol.'

‘In gaol? On what charge?'

‘What about the surgeon? Jimmy's expecting him to come and make him better—'

‘What's he done?
What has he done
?'

Above the hubbub that greeted John Garrett's startling announcement, the voice of Evangeline rose shrill and demanding.

‘That need not concern you. You'll be able to carry on teaching at the school when Minister Jamieson gets another teacher – if that's what you want to do. Mind you, I didn't pay for your schooling in order that you might teach a lot of
Highland brats
—'

‘I asked you a question.
Why is Alasdair Burns back in gaol
? What has he done?'

‘That's a question I'd like answered, too.' Wyatt leaned across the desk and glared angrily at the factor.

‘The police in Edinburgh are questioning him about his part in the serious Chartist riots that have occurred this year in Lancashire, Yorkshire and Stafford—'

‘That's ridiculous! Alasdair's had no part in any rioting. He's been
in Eskaig for most of the summer. He must have set out for the Highlands as soon as he was released from prison.'

‘Then there's the matter of an assault upon
me
, when we lodged at the Tarbert inn, on the way to Glasgow.'

John Garrett spoke loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear, then sat back again, satisfied with the sensation his latest revelation had caused.

‘Alasdair
assaulted
you? Why should he do such a thing? He hardly knows you.'

John Garrett shrugged smugly. ‘The man was intoxicated … causing trouble. I reported it to the police in Edinburgh.'

‘After you learned about his background, and in order to provide the police with a reason to arrest him, no doubt.'

The factor gazed at Wyatt with an expression of mocking innocence. ‘I told the police I'd been assaulted by a drunken man and identified him to them. What they do with him is their business. I didn't think it necessary to ask their intentions—'

‘
You're a liar
!'

The words, hissed in fierce anger by Evangeline caused every sound in the room to cease.

‘What did you say?' Ashen-faced, John Garrett stood up and faced his daughter, who was also on her feet and trembling with the intensity of her anger.

‘I said
you're lying
. Whatever else he might have done, Alasdair Burns was not intoxicated. He's never touched a drop of alcohol in his life.'

‘I don't care whether he drinks or whether he doesn't. I'll not be called a liar by my own daughter in front of strangers. Go to your room this instant!'

John Garrett was used to ordering men to do his bidding and having his orders obeyed. However, this was no Highlander fearful of losing a tenancy upon which his life and the life of his family depended. Garrett was confronted by an angry daughter whose temper was a match for his own.

‘You heard me, girl.
Go to your room
!'

‘I'll not move until I've heard the truth of Alasdair's arrest.' Catching her father out in a blatant lie had shaken Evangeline, but she was deeply concerned. She stood in the centre of the room, hands
on hips, glaring at her father with anger vibrating from her whole being.

John Garrett would have known exactly what to do had one of his tenants defied him in such a manner, but if there
was
a weakness in him it was the affection he held for his only daughter.

‘I'll speak to you later. The rest of you can go. I've said everything you need to hear. If you have any other questions about your late teacher, I suggest you direct them to your minister. He employed the man.'

Striding to the door, Garrett bellowed: ‘Binnie! Where is that girl? Why I keep a servant who's never around when she's wanted, I don't know. Binnie! Show these men out. Damn the girl! Where is she?'

As John Garrett stamped along the corridor shouting for the servant-girl, Wyatt spoke to Evangeline.

‘Are you going to be all right? You've made your father very angry.'

‘He's made
me
angry. More angry than he realises. If he starts any of his nonsense with me, I'll walk out of the house. I've threatened to do it often enough before.'

‘He might not have been quite so angry with you before.'

‘Then, you'd better leave the manse door open for me. Don't worry, I'll find out all I can about Alasdair and let you know tomorrow. You'll go to Edinburgh and see if you can do anything for him?'

Wyatt nodded. He had grown to like and respect the one-legged schoolteacher. He believed Alasdair Burns was in desperate need of a friend.

T
HE ESKAIG VILLAGERS were dismayed by the news of Alasdair Burns's imprisonment. A few felt the Edinburgh authorities must have some lawful reason for his arrest and some were shocked to learn their minister had taken on a teacher who had already served a term of imprisonment. Many others were sympathetic to the Chartist cause. They believed Alasdair Burns was being victimised for his past and did not doubt his latest arrest had been engineered by John Garrett. They were aware of the factor's opposition to Highland children attending school. They argued that this was his method of having the school closed without incurring the wrath of Lord Kilmalie.

Jimmy Gordon was too hurt and bewildered to apportion blame. Alasdair Burns had promised to bring back a surgeon to help him and he had not kept his promise. The thought of one day being able to do the things other boys did had given Jimmy Gordon just enough strength to hold on during the last few difficult weeks, even though the pain in his twisted body had become almost more than he was able to endure.

With all hope of a cure gone, Jimmy Gordon slid into a sharp decline, alarming his mother and doting grandparents. When Wyatt paid a visit to the Gordon home at the request of Mrs Gordon he was shocked by what he found. The small boy was lying in his bed and there was a new frailty about him that Wyatt found alarming.

Talking seemed only to tire Jimmy Gordon, and after a few minutes Wyatt left the room, promising the boy he would go to Edinburgh himself and return with both Alasdair Burns and the promised surgeon.

‘Will you really go to Edinburgh?' Jimmy's mother asked the question outside the room where her son lay. She clung desperately to the
hope that a city surgeon could work a miracle. Hope was all that was left to her.

‘I'll be on the next boat,' Wyatt assured her. ‘In the mean time do your best to keep him cheerful. Don't allow him to give up. There are marvellous doctors and surgeons in Edinburgh. They make new discoveries every day. Perhaps they will have something to cure Jimmy. A surgeon will certainly be able to ease Jimmy's pain. I'm going away to pray for him now. I hope everyone in Eskaig will do the same.'

As he walked from the house, Wyatt was acutely aware that no surgeon, however brilliant, was capable of performing miracles. Only God himself could help the crippled Jimmy Gordon.

 

There were a small number of villagers at the jetty to see Wyatt leave in Donald McKay's fussy little steam-launch. Among them was Angus Cameron. The elder would take Sunday services in the kirk during Wyatt's absence, but his presence at the lochside owed more to concern for his grandson than to respect for Wyatt.

Nevertheless, the elder's farewell was sufficiently warm for Donald McKay to comment upon it as the steam-launch fussed clear of the jetty and headed back down the long narrow Loch Eil.

‘You've done well, Minister. I never doubted you'd convince the folk of Eskaig they had the minister to suit them. I didn't expect you to win Angus Cameron to your side.'

‘I'm not yet certain I have,' commented Wyatt. Angus Cameron still disapproved of the Highlanders from outlying crofts and cots attending his kirk. ‘We've come to an understanding, no more. Right now he's very concerned about his grandson. I'm hoping to bring a surgeon back to see the lad when I return, but first I must try to free Alasdair Burns.'

‘The one-legged teacher? The man I took to Glasgow not three weeks since?'

Wyatt nodded. ‘He's in trouble. They have him in gaol in Edinburgh. I'm convinced there's been some mistake. Hopefully I'll have it sorted out in time to return with you on your next voyage.'

Donald McKay looked thoughtful for some minutes before saying: ‘Would the teacher's trouble have anything to do with the argument he had with the factor in Tarbert?'

‘It's more than likely. John Garrett claims Alasdair assaulted him. He reported the matter to the police in Edinburgh.'

‘The teacher assaulted Garrett? Like hell he did…. Begging your pardon, Minister. It was the other way around.'

‘You
saw
what happened?'

‘Everything. The teacher was sitting having a meal by himself and minding his own business when Garrett went up to him. The factor had been drinking with some fancy Englishmen, up here for the shooting. He'd had about as much drink as he could take and was his usual argumentative self. He picked a quarrel with the teacher and began swinging punches at him. The teacher did what any red-blooded man would do. He hit Garrett – just the once, mind you. The next minute the factor was on his backside on the floor. It was a blow that a man standing on
two
legs might have been proud of. It would have delighted many a Highlander to see it, though I doubt any other man would have let Garrett off so lightly. He's not the best-liked man in these parts.'

‘Would you repeat what you've just told me in a courtroom?'

Donald McKay hesitated, suddenly wishing he had not been quite so eager to tell the minister about the incident in the Tarbert inn. ‘I've a living to earn, Minister. One day in court and I've lost a round trip of six days.'

‘A man's future depends on what you could tell the sheriff, Donald. Alasdair Burns has been in trouble before because of his Chartist views. This could well mean his being transported.'

After a further hesitation, Donald McKay nodded. ‘You're right, Minister. I'd much rather be kept out of this, but if it's the only way of preventing the teacher being sent away I'll tell what I saw.'

‘Good man! You've lifted a load from my mind. Now I believe I have a real chance of freeing Alasdair Burns.'

The prospects were certainly much brighter now, but there was still the matter of Alasdair Burns's alleged involvement in the Chartist riots.

The little steamer had almost reached the Narrows, the descriptive name for the stretch of water linking Loch Eil and Loch Linnhe, when Donald McKay muttered: ‘It looks as though we've another passenger, though why she couldn't walk on to Corpach, I don't know.'

As the steam-powered launch eased carefully towards the bank against the tricky current, Wyatt looked up to see Evangeline standing
on the bank. She was dressed in town clothes, a small canvas-bound trunk at her feet.

As the boat grated on the shingle and Donald McKay jumped ashore to fetch the trunk, a securing rope in his hand lest the boat drift away, Wyatt helped Evangeline on board.

‘Where do you think you're going?' Wyatt asked the question, although he knew there could be only one answer.

‘To Edinburgh – with you. To see what can be done for Alasdair.'

‘It's foolishness! I can do everything that needs to be done. There's no reason why you should travel all that way for nothing.'

‘I have no intention of arguing with you about it. I'm going to Edinburgh. That's an end to it.'

‘How did you persuade your father to let you make such a journey alone?'

Glaring defiantly at Wyatt, Evangeline said nothing.

‘He doesn't know!' Wyatt's disbelief was tinged with grudging admiration. ‘He'll be absolutely furious when he finds out where you've gone.'

‘He can be as furious as he likes. I'll not be treated as a child, or ordered around as though I were one of Lord Kilmalie's tenants. I'm going to Edinburgh and I'll see Alasdair released even if it means Father never speaking to me again!'

Wyatt repeated what Donald McKay had told him of the events in Tarbert, and Evangeline nodded her head vigorously in agreement. ‘That's what I
thought
must have happened. Knowing both men as I do, I don't doubt they began arguing before they'd been on the boat together for half an hour. Father is unused to having anyone question what he says. Since Lord Kilmalie's been too ill to take any real interest in the estate Father's made all the decisions for himself. Sometimes he's so convinced he's right about everything it frightens me. It's bad enough when he's sober. After he's been drinking heavily he becomes impossible.'

‘Donald McKay said your father had been drinking when he and Alasdair came to blows in Tarbert.' Wyatt gave Evangeline a shrewd look. ‘Are you doing this just to spite your father – or is there another reason? One I should perhaps know something about?'

The defiant look returned to Evangeline's face for a moment. Then her eyes met his, and she relaxed. ‘I can tell you. I've grown very fond
of Alasdair during these past few weeks. He's a fine teacher, and a good man. We may not always agree about politics, but he's sincere in his beliefs. I … I admire him very much.'

Evangeline spoke with a sudden fierce passion. ‘Alasdair has a keen mind – a
brilliant
mind. One day his talent will be recognised and he'll teach at a university or somewhere….'

As Evangeline ran out of words, Wyatt reached out and took her hands in his. ‘I'm happy for you, Evangeline. Happy for
both
of you. Alasdair is a good man.' He released her hands. ‘However, before we can talk about your future we need to extricate Alasdair from the mess he's in….'

 

At the Tarbert inn Wyatt tackled the landlord about the incident that had occurred there three weeks before. Although quite as reluctant as Donald McKay to become involved in any court proceedings, the landlord agreed the trouble had been none of Alasdair Burns's making. Evangeline went to bed that night upset in the confirmed knowledge that her father had deliberately lied to have Alasdair Burns arrested.

Wyatt and Evangeline clattered into Edinburgh on board a fast carriage, the evening sun still high enough to pick out the battlements of the great castle dominating the skyline.

Evangeline intended to lodge with the family of the lawyer who administered Lord Kilmalie's estate. She was particularly friendly with a daughter of the family and always stayed at the house whenever she visited the Scots capital.

Wyatt would stay at the house where he had lodged during his student days, but they both agreed it was important they should first learn what was happening to Alasdair Burns.

The prison was as grim and forbidding as any Wyatt had ever seen – and he had visited a number of them in his capacity as a Church of Scotland minister. His previous parish in Glasgow had been home for many of that city's habitual criminals.

Evangeline edged closer to him as they were escorted along a dark corridor, followed by the echoing clang of steel-barred doors being closed behind them. There was a vile smell in here, the smell of many unwashed bodies kept in close confinement. It was noisy, too, as though an inmate needed to raise his voice in some primitive attempt to boost his courage and prove his manhood in such an emasculating
environment. Some had already given up the struggle. They sat on the straw-strewn floor, with bodies bowed to captivity, only their minds free to wander the byways of the past, where ‘hope' and ‘promise' were not words that left a bitter taste on the tongue.

Once Wyatt and Evangeline stood aside for a poor wretch who shuffled past, heavily manacled and fettered, his chains dragging on the uneven flagstone floor.

‘He's being hanged in the morning,' explained the warder with proprietary pride. ‘Killed his wife, mother and three children with an axe. He's mad as May butter. The hangman'll be doing him a favour.'

Evangeline shuddered and whispered to Wyatt: ‘Poor Alasdair. Imagine being locked up with such people.'

Another protesting door was swung open, and the warder said cheerfully: ‘Here we are. This is where we keep those who're waiting to go on trial. They've windows here
and
an exercise-yard.'

The windows were tiny barred apertures, at least twelve feet from the floor, and the ‘exercise-yard' was a small paved area beyond the cell. No more than twenty feet square, it had walls so high the sun's rays could not touch the faces of the men who walked there.

It would be some time before it became dark in the streets of Edinburgh, but in here the light from a few oil-lamps hanging in the corridor cast grotesque shadows on the walls of the communal ‘remand' cell.

‘It's later than usual for visitors,' explained the warder. ‘If you hadn't been a minister of the Church I wouldn't have allowed you in, but so long as you only stay a wee while I can't see it will do anyone any harm.'

The warder smiled ingratiatingly when Evangeline slipped a silver coin into his ready hand. Touching a hand to his forehead, he turned towards the bars of the cage-like cell. Raising his voice, he called: ‘Burns, or Anderson, or whatever it is you're calling yourself today, show yourself. You've got visitors. Come, move yourself before I have to take 'em out again.'

There was a movement at the back of the cell, and Alasdair Burns appeared. Forcing a way through the crowd of prisoners who were gathered about the bars, he came to where Wyatt and Evangeline were standing.

‘Can't we see him on his own? Without all these … others?'
Evangeline was dismayed that she and Wyatt would have to try to talk to Alasdair with so many prisoners listening.

‘Sorry, miss. It's against regulations to allow a prisoner out of his cell to talk to a visitor.' The warder lowered his voice and gave Wyatt a sly wink. ‘Mind you, if you was thinking of
compensating
me for all the trouble it'd cause, I just
might
be able to have him put in a
comfortable
cell for the next time you was here. One with a chair for the lady. I've even been known to let a prisoner have use of a cell with a
bed
to entertain….' The warder suddenly remembered to whom he was talking and hurriedly backtracked. ‘Not as that would be at all appropriate in this case, of course. I can recognise a
real
lady when I see one.'

Evangeline missed the last part of the turnkey's dissertation as she reached through the bars and grasped Alasdair Burns's hand.