Concerned that having a Jacobite on board could be considered treasonous, Hoseason and the men plot against him. David, however, admires Alan and chooses to take his side. After a fierce attack, Hoseason agrees to take Alan to Linnhe Loch. Alan, a vain and emotional man, takes a shine to David, despite the fact that he is a Whig and loyal to King George.
Hoseason now asks Alan to help steer the ship through the difficult waters. The Covenant strikes a reef and goes under, and David is swept ashore on an island near the coast. He freezes, starves and is sick before discovering the Isle of Earridh is a tidal islet — he could have walked to shore all along! When he reaches shore, he finds that Alan has also survived the wreck and has left word for David to follow him.
The historical backdrop to the story is the aftermath of the Jacobite rising, where Jacobites were hunted, the Highland clans who supported the Jacobite movement were scattered - their powers surrendered, pride bruised, chiefs in exile. It is easy to comprehend that Stevenson was a sympathizer. The story is well written with a mixture of English and Scottish Lowland dialog. And there was more warmth and feeling in the writing which was a pleasant contrast to the distant and detached writing I have so far observed in other Stevenson works.
Overall, coupled with true historical facts, picturesque highland setting, and beautiful writing, Kidnapped is a great adventure story.
I enjoyed it very much. But young David's story does not end here. I would certainly read the sequel to learn the rest of his story. View 2 comments. See here! Black be its fall! It becomes very obvious that his uncle is not well liked, and once David meets him, he knows why.
Even his appearance seems to support his degenerate intentions. David is torchless, and thinking about him ascending in the dark with nothing but open space before him and the cold stone of the wall behind him sent a shiver down my spine.
David is betrayed and finds himself on a ship called Covenant bound for the colonies. There, through a mishap at sea, he makes the acquaintance of Alan Breck Stewart. They become allies against the ship's crew, and there is this rousing description of the Battle of the Roundhouse. Stevenson is at his best when he is describing these desperate, hopeless circumstances. Alan Breck Stewart was a real person.
He was an exiled Jacobite, but was on his way back to Scotland to collect the dues owed to the cause by the clans when he had an unfortunate encounter with the Covenant. His head was worth a pretty penny to the English. The nickname Breck means spotted and refers to the smallpox scars on his face.
He was accused of murdering the royal agent Colin Campbell, and though he was never apprehended for the crime, he was sentenced to death in absentia. The Appin Murder, as it was called, is part of the backdrop of this story, as David finds himself in the middle of it. The Campbells and the Stewarts have long been enemies, and the murder of Colin was the spark that set off another round of feuding between the families. I believe he was just a convenient scapegoat for the crime, given that the English already desired his head in a noose.
Alan Breck is a fierce fighter, certainly the right man for David to know in a tight spot, but the fact that he is a much wanted man puts David at more risk than if he were traveling across country by himself. Alan Breck has some faults as well. David knows the House of Shaw is his birthright. His father was the eldest, and by primogentry rules, his uncle is a usurper.
Dirl means vibrate, but dirl certainly fits better with hilt. They are much beloved characters by Stevenson fans, certainly as well loved as Jim Hawkins. Stevenson wrote a second book called Catriona that picks up right where Kidnapped ends.
The book was later published with the title David Balfour which probably helped induce further sales. I will be rereading that one as well very soon. He had several unfinished projects and many things percolating in his brain when he passed away at Those are very diverse writers who all found something to admire in this book intended for young readers.
There is a fold out map and fourteen color plates from N. It has a paste down color print on the cover. I also have David Balfour and Black Arrow in these editions. I have Treasure Island as well, but a later edition with a dust jacket.
They are readily available for a reasonable price on eBay and Abebooks and certainly make the reading experience more enjoyable. View all 11 comments. Jun 17, Jason Koivu rated it really liked it Shelves: fiction. Why haven't I read more Stevenson? Perhaps because from what I can tell his writing feels as remote and cold as the Scottish Isles. It can be beautiful in its way, but you often forget it's there in favor of more popular destinations with more color and pizzazz.
Something about the story doesn't grab me. Although it should, as I just recently endured a similar situa Why haven't I read more Stevenson? Although it should, as I just recently endured a similar situation where in my business was done out of a contract by someone essentially claiming to be me. Usurping my anticipated profits by saying they took over my business is more precise. A dastardly bastardly thing to do. So, these sorts of stories should wring pity and 5 stars out of my bleeding heart, but they don't.
Perhaps it's something to do with the writing style of the times. It's a little stiff, actions are a bit telegraphed. That's tough though, because I suppose all literature may very well suffer from such ravages of time, to be thrown upon the scrap one day because readers have moved on, sped up, and become jaded.
Fuck, I'm getting melodramatic in my old age SO glad I waited to read Kidnapped until now. If I'd read this in high school like I was supposed to I would have missed so much But now that I'm more familiar with UK history, Scottish accents and old timey slang, I can actually sit back and enjoy something like Kidnapped , rather than be mired under every time the brogue overtakes me.
I read an illustrated and abridged version of this when I was a kid. Now reading the unabridged version as an adult I really liked it. The story is solid, the characters are meaningful and interact well, and the plot was good and comprehensible.
There is nothing deep or subliminal about this. That's not to say the story is shallow but is good because everything is surface level. Throughout the story I kept wondering if the main character David Balfour was resilient and mentally strong, or just l I read an illustrated and abridged version of this when I was a kid. Throughout the story I kept wondering if the main character David Balfour was resilient and mentally strong, or just lucky.
Maybe I'm looking too deep into it. I enjoyed this solid adventure story and would recommend Robert Louis Stevenson to anyone who likes a good story. I'll probably read it again. Swashbuckling fun, but the problem I have with this rereading it as an adult is the same as reading The Black Arrow.
Stevenson manages to be both engaging and silly - sometimes at the same moment, but luckily the human brain is capable of multi-tasking even in the middle of a paragraph.
Isn't the relationship between Alexander and Ebenezer Balfour which drives the narrative too ridiculous? The elder brother giving up his inheritance and becoming an out of luck village teacher is one thing and har Swashbuckling fun, but the problem I have with this rereading it as an adult is the same as reading The Black Arrow. The elder brother giving up his inheritance and becoming an out of luck village teacher is one thing and hard enough to believe why not just split the inheritance or pay him off or set him up in a profession?
It is hard to believe that David, or at least the pastor, Mr Cameron would have been ignorant of it. At least Stevenson kept back that detail until the end, but still I wonder why he didn't think of a different way to drive the story — say Ebenezer tricking his brother in some way or framing him for a crime.
More or less anything would have been more plausible than the story he does use. On the plus side I liked the sense of the cultural differences between the lowlanders and the Highlanders which comes through strongly, although I was not sure how far the prejudices against the highlanders reflected Stevenson's own views or what he felt would be a reasonable reflection of those held by contemporary lowlanders. Alternatively this is a moment in a children's book in which the child's moral values and intellectual capabilities are shown to be superior to that of an adult.
The child can outwit the wicked uncle, the pirate, or the wicked uncle disguised as a leper as they so frequently are. The child lost in an adult world triumphs through their own ability. And the characters and settings are sharp and vivid, Sandy's devotion to the memory of Alan Breck in The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie seems more reasonable than the obsessions harboured by her teacher view spoiler [ but to be fair, I'm not a fan of Mussolini hide spoiler ].
Other parts of the story don't make much sense. It should have been a simple matter to stick him in a row-boat and take him straight to shore. It's all an unnecessary contrivance. Later I find it mystifying that when leaving the house of his kinsman Breck is given only a couple of pennies but two days later on the heather when he sends a message the same kinsman is able to come up with several guineas in a short order. OK I can understand the situation is stressed and hurried, but equally these are meant to be people living under a harsh regime and used to having Breck drift in and out secretly on clan business, as a reader I don't expect them to be quite so innocent.
In narrative terms it serves only to demonstrate how Breck communicates and interacts with the clan network because the money is never used in practical economic exchange but is instead lost at cards at the first opportunity. But the general impression is that the Highlanders are inept and less morally developed than the child hero - particularly here I'm thinking of David's attitude towards the card playing of the Clan Chief.
That's by the by. Worse the trail of instructions left by Alan Breck for David to follow would have served to bring both friend and foe to the house of Alan's kinsman.
Particularly as David doesn't speak Gaelic and has to discover the political lay of the land as he makes his journey. It doesn't suggest a particularly skilled conspirator, but then the Jacobites did loose I suppose, so maybe that's the point. If you read The Wind in the Willows you know it's an animal fable and so you accept that a Vole and a Badger can be friends or that a Toad can disguise himself as a washerwoman and not be recognised. On the other hand if a story appears to be realistic and is set amongst amidst the political intrigue of Scotland after the '45 then you expect the adult characters to behave appropriately or to get hanged.
So I'm left wondering if Stevenson was just not very thoughtful in how he put the story together, or was just very condescending in how he viewed the highlanders and their capabilities, or if he expected the late Victorian reading public to wolf down his stories more eagerly than their porridge and still ask for more.
What does the Gaelic anti-defamation league think? Best hope the children don't ask too many questions. And if they do - tell them it's like a Scotch egg - you have to deal with the mince before you can get at the egg.
Jun 10, Kathleen rated it really liked it. What makes ye care for such a thankless fellow? The plot follows young David, who is cheated out of his inheritance by a greedy uncle, and kidnapped into servitude on a sailing ship. The ship hits a small boat during a fog and picks up "Alan," cried I, "what makes ye so good to me? The ship hits a small boat during a fog and picks up Alan Breck Stewart, a renegade Highlander. Set in the period following the failed Scottish rebellion, a reader not well-versed in the history might have difficulty following the politics and the dialect of the Scots.
It's a grand adventure story, though, with the friendship between the two quite different main characters providing light-hearted moments, narrow escapes, and a fitting, but bittersweet ending. View 1 comment. May 01, Duane rated it really liked it Shelves: young-adult , english-calssics , book-challenge , rated-books , reviewed-books , guardian , historical-fiction.
I don't know how the rest of young David Balfour's life turns out, but his early adventures where amazing. Set in 18th century Scotland during the Jacobite period, David, a loyalist to King George, and his friend Alan Stewart, a Jacobite, seemingly travel the entirety of the Scottish Highlands hiding in the rocks and heather from rival clans and the British Army. Character lessons abound, especially for young David.
Just a fun book to read. Although I know I've read Treasure Island through the same pirate sea twice, I wasn't sure about the almost-as-famous Kidnapped. If I did read it once, the memory of it is gone, so let's say this was a first go-round.
My biggest observation is that is gets off to a roaring start, adventure-wise which is what you want, nay DEMAND, of a Robert Louis Stevenson , because at first there's the mystery of young David Balfour's dead father and living uncle his brother and estate, and then there's the Although I know I've read Treasure Island through the same pirate sea twice, I wasn't sure about the almost-as-famous Kidnapped.
My biggest observation is that is gets off to a roaring start, adventure-wise which is what you want, nay DEMAND, of a Robert Louis Stevenson , because at first there's the mystery of young David Balfour's dead father and living uncle his brother and estate, and then there's the derring-do of Uncle Ebeneezer I can't help but picture Dickens' character hiring a captain to get the kid out of his hair via kidnapping.
Young DB's destination: Carolina where the weather may be finer, but after that, all down hill. Anyway, once David teams up with his sidekick Alan Breck, there's lots of good adventure on the boat, but the boat gets storm-tossed and with it David and with him all the really good adventure.
After that, the poor lad re-teams with Alan as they cross this part of Scotland and that as fugitives. Not a lot of action. Just a lot of grunt marching and hiding, really. Enough to toy with 3 stars, even, but for all that, I never lost interest, so I'm sticking to the high 3. If you're Scottish, you should definitely read this. Ye can only win into it from the outside, for that part of the house is no finished.
But the stairs are grand underfoot. Out I went into the night. The wind was still moaning in the distance, though never a breath of it came near the house of Shaws. It had fallen blacker than ever; and I was glad to feel along the wall, till I came the length of the stairtower door at the far end of the unfinished wing. I had got the key into the keyhole and had just turned it, when all upon a sudden, without sound of wind or thunder, the whole sky lighted up with wild fire and went black again.
I had to put my hand over my eyes to get back to the colour of the darkness; and indeed I was already half blinded when I stepped into the tower. It was so dark inside, it seemed a body could scarce breathe; but I pushed out with foot and hand, and presently struck the wall with the one, and the lowermost round of the stair with the other.
The wall, by the touch, was of fine hewn stone; the steps too, though somewhat steep and narrow, were of polished masonwork, and regular and solid underfoot. The house of Shaws stood some five full storeys high, not counting lofts. Well, as I advanced, it seemed to me the stair grew airier and a thought more lightsome; and I was wondering what might be the cause of this change, when a second blink of the summer lightning came and went. It was not only that the flash shone in on every side through breaches in the wall, so that I seemed to be clambering aloft upon an open scaffold, but the same passing brightness showed me the steps were of unequal length, and that one of my feet rested that moment within two inches of the well.
This was the grand stair! I thought; and with the thought, a gust of a kind of angry courage came into my heart. My uncle had sent me here, certainly to run great risks, perhaps to die. The darkness, by contrast with the flash, appeared to have redoubled; nor was that all, for my ears were now troubled and my mind confounded by a great stir of bats in the top part of the tower, and the foul beasts, flying downwards, sometimes beat about my face and body.
The tower, I should have said, was square; and in every corner the step was made of a great stone of a different shape to join the flights. Well, I had come close to one of these turns, when, feeling forward as usual, my hand slipped upon an edge and found nothing but emptiness beyond it. The stair had been carried no higher; to set a stranger mounting it in the darkness was to send him straight to his death; and although, thanks to the lightning and my own precautions, I was safe enough the mere thought of the peril in which I might have stood, and the dreadful height I might have fallen from, brought out the sweat upon my body and relaxed my joints.
But I knew what I wanted now, and turned and groped my way down again, with a wonderful anger in my heart. About half-way down, the wind sprang up in a clap and shook the tower, and died again; the rain followed; and before I had reached the ground level it fell in buckets.
I put out my head into the storm, and looked along towards the kitchen. The door, which I had shut behind me when I left, now stood open, and shed a little glimmer of light; and I thought I could see a figure standing in the rain, quite still, like a man hearkening.
And then there came a blinding flash, which showed me my uncle plainly, just where I had fancied him to stand; and hard upon the heels of it, a great tow-row of thunder. Certain it is, at least, that he was seized on by a kind of panic fear, and that he ran into the house and left the door open behind him.
I followed as softly as I could, and, coming unheard into the kitchen, stood and watched him. He had found time to open the corner cupboard and bring out a great case bottle of aqua vitae, and now sat with his back towards me at the table. Ever and again he would be seized with a fit of deadly shuddering and groan aloud, and carrying the bottle to his lips, drink down the raw spirits by the mouthful. I was somewhat shocked at this; but I had myself to look to first of all, and did not hesitate to let him lie as he had fallen.
The keys were hanging in the cupboard; and it was my design to furnish myself with arms before my uncle should come again to his senses and the power of devising evil. In the cupboard were a few bottles, some apparently of medicine; a great many bills and other papers, which I should willingly enough have rummaged, had I had the time; and a few necessaries that were nothing to my purpose.
Thence I turned to the chests. The first was full of meal; the second of moneybags and papers tied into sheaves; in the third, with many other things and these for the most part clothes I found a rusty, ugly-looking Highland dirk without the scabbard.
This, then, I concealed inside my waistcoat, and turned to my uncle. He lay as he had fallen, all huddled, with one knee up and one arm sprawling abroad; his face had a strange colour of blue, and he seemed to have ceased breathing. Fear came on me that he was dead; then I got water and dashed it in his face; and with that he seemed to come a little to himself, working his mouth and fluttering his eyelids. At last he looked up and saw me, and there came into his eyes a terror that was not of this world.
He had begun to seek for his breath with deep sighs. I ran to the cupboard, and, sure enough, found there a blue phial of medicine, with the dose written on it on a paper, and this I administered to him with what speed I might. I set him on a chair and looked at him. He heard me all through in silence; and then, in a broken voice, begged me to let him go to bed.
And so weak was he that I could do nothing but consent. I locked him into his room, however, and pocketed the key, and then returning to the kitchen, made up such a blaze as had not shone there for many a long year, and wrapping myself in my plaid, lay down upon the chests and fell asleep. For all that, and before the sun began to peep or the last of the stars had vanished, I made my way to the side of the burn, and had a plunge in a deep whirling pool.
All aglow from my bath, I sat down once more beside the fire, which I replenished, and began gravely to consider my position. But I was young and spirited, and like most lads that have been country-bred, I had a great opinion of my shrewdness. I had come to his door no better than a beggar and little more than a child; he had met me with treachery and violence; it would be a fine consummation to take the upper hand, and drive him like a herd of sheep.
The warlock of Essendean, they say, had made a mirror in which men could read the future; it must have been of other stuff than burning coal; for in all the shapes and pictures that I sat and gazed at, there was never a ship, never a seaman with a hairy cap, never a big bludgeon for my silly head, or the least sign of all those tribulations that were ripe to fall on me.
Presently, all swollen with conceit, I went up-stairs and gave my prisoner his liberty. He gave me good-morning civilly; and I gave the same to him, smiling down upon him, from the heights of my sufficiency. Soon we were set to breakfast, as it might have been the day before. I took you for a good man, or no worse than others at the least. It seems we were both wrong. He murmured something about a jest, and that he liked a bit of fun; and then, seeing me smile, changed his tone, and assured me he would make all clear as soon as we had breakfasted.
I saw by his face that he had no lie ready for me, though he was hard at work preparing one; and I think I was about to tell him so, when we were interrupted by a knocking at the door. Bidding my uncle sit where he was, I went to open it, and found on the doorstep a half-grown boy in sea-clothes. He had no sooner seen me than he began to dance some steps of the sea-hornpipe which I had never before heard of far less seen , snapping his fingers in the air and footing it right cleverly.
For all that, he was blue with the cold; and there was something in his face, a look between tears and laughter, that was highly pathetic and consisted ill with this gaiety of manner. With that I brought him in and set him down to my own place, where he fell-to greedily on the remains of breakfast, winking to me between whiles, and making many faces, which I think the poor soul considered manly. Meanwhile, my uncle had read the letter and sat thinking; then, suddenly, he got to his feet with a great air of liveliness, and pulled me apart into the farthest corner of the room.
If you have any further commands for over-seas, to-day will be the last occasion, as the wind will serve us well out of the firth. Rankeillor; of which, if not speedily redd up, you may looke to see some losses follow. I have drawn a bill upon you, as per margin, and am, sir, your most obedt. Now, if you and me was to walk over with yon lad, I could see the captain at the Hawes, or maybe on board the Covenant if there was papers to be signed; and so far from a loss of time, we can jog on to the lawyer, Mr.
I stood awhile and thought. I was going to some place of shipping, which was doubtless populous, and where my uncle durst attempt no violence, and, indeed, even the society of the cabin-boy so far protected me. Once there, I believed I could force on the visit to the lawyer, even if my uncle were now insincere in proposing it; and, perhaps, in the bottom of my heart, I wished a nearer view of the sea and ships.
You are to remember I had lived all my life in the inland hills, and just two days before had my first sight of the firth lying like a blue floor, and the sailed ships moving on the face of it, no bigger than toys. One thing with another, I made up my mind. My uncle got into his hat and coat, and buckled an old rusty cutlass on; and then we trod the fire out, locked the door, and set forth upon our walk.
The wind, being in that cold quarter the north-west, blew nearly in our faces as we went. It was the month of June; the grass was all white with daisies, and the trees with blossom; but, to judge by our blue nails and aching wrists, the time might have been winter and the whiteness a December frost. Uncle Ebenezer trudged in the ditch, jogging from side to side like an old ploughman coming home from work.
He never said a word the whole way; and I was thrown for talk on the cabin-boy. He told me his name was Ransome, and that he had followed the sea since he was nine, but could not say how old he was, as he had lost his reckoning. He showed me tattoo marks, baring his breast in the teeth of the wind and in spite of my remonstrances, for I thought it was enough to kill him; he swore horribly whenever he remembered, but more like a silly schoolboy than a man; and boasted of many wild and bad things that he had done: stealthy thefts, false accusations, ay, and even murder; but all with such a dearth of likelihood in the details, and such a weak and crazy swagger in the delivery, as disposed me rather to pity than to believe him.
I asked him of the brig which he declared was the finest ship that sailed and of Captain Hoseason, in whose praises he was equally loud. He would only admit one flaw in his idol. Why, you are no slave, to be so handled! I have never felt such pity for any one in this wide world as I felt for that half-witted creature, and it began to come over me that the brig Covenant for all her pious name was little better than a hell upon the seas.
I know a trick worth two of that, I do! I asked him what trade could be so dreadful as the one he followed, where he ran the continual peril of his life, not alone from wind and sea, but by the horrid cruelty of those who were his masters. He said it was very true; and then began to praise the life, and tell what a pleasure it was to get on shore with money in his pocket, and spend it like a man, and buy apples, and swagger, and surprise what he called stick-in-the-mud boys.
O, laws! I made a fine fool of him, I tell you! I tell you, I keep them in order. Just then we came to the top of the hill, and looked down on the Ferry and the Hope. The Firth of Forth as is very well known narrows at this point to the width of a good-sized river, which makes a convenient ferry going north, and turns the upper reach into a landlocked haven for all manner of ships.
Right in the midst of the narrows lies an islet with some ruins; on the south shore they have built a pier for the service of the Ferry; and at the end of the pier, on the other side of the road, and backed against a pretty garden of holly-trees and hawthorns, I could see the building which they called the Hawes Inn. The town of Queensferry lies farther west, and the neighbourhood of the inn looked pretty lonely at that time of day, for the boat had just gone north with passengers.
There was a sea-going bustle on board; yards were swinging into place; and as the wind blew from that quarter, I could hear the song of the sailors as they pulled upon the ropes. After all I had listened to upon the way, I looked at that ship with an extreme abhorrence; and from the bottom of my heart I pitied all poor souls that were condemned to sail in her.
We had all three pulled up on the brow of the hill; and now I marched across the road and addressed my uncle. He seemed to waken from a dream. But what are we standing here for? At a table hard by the chimney, a tall, dark, sober-looking man sat writing. In spite of the heat of the room, he wore a thick sea-jacket, buttoned to the neck, and a tall hairy cap drawn down over his ears; yet I never saw any man, not even a judge upon the bench, look cooler, or more studious and self-possessed, than this ship-captain.
He got to his feet at once, and coming forward, offered his large hand to Ebenezer. Away I went, therefore, leaving the two men sitting down to a bottle and a great mass of papers; and crossing the road in front of the inn, walked down upon the beach. With the wind in that quarter, only little wavelets, not much bigger than I had seen upon a lake, beat upon the shore.
But the weeds were new to me—some green, some brown and long, and some with little bladders that crackled between my fingers. Even so far up the firth, the smell of the sea-water was exceedingly salt and stirring; the Covenant, besides, was beginning to shake out her sails, which hung upon the yards in clusters; and the spirit of all that I beheld put me in thoughts of far voyages and foreign places.
I looked, too, at the seamen with the skiff—big brown fellows, some in shirts, some with jackets, some with coloured handkerchiefs about their throats, one with a brace of pistols stuck into his pockets, two or three with knotty bludgeons, and all with their case-knives.
I passed the time of day with one that looked less desperate than his fellows, and asked him of the sailing of the brig. He said they would get under way as soon as the ebb set, and expressed his gladness to be out of a port where there were no taverns and fiddlers; but all with such horrifying oaths, that I made haste to get away from him. This threw me back on Ransome, who seemed the least wicked of that gang, and who soon came out of the inn and ran to me, crying for a bowl of punch.
I told him I would give him no such thing, for neither he nor I was of an age for such indulgences. He mopped and mowed at me, and called me names; but he was glad to get the ale, for all that; and presently we were set down at a table in the front room of the inn, and both eating and drinking with a good appetite.
Here it occurred to me that, as the landlord was a man of that county, I might do well to make a friend of him. I offered him a share, as was much the custom in those days; but he was far too great a man to sit with such poor customers as Ransome and myself, and he was leaving the room, when I called him back to ask if he knew Mr.
Jennet Clouston and mony mair that he has harried out of house and hame. And yet he was ance a fine young fellow, too. Alexander, that was like the death of him. Was my—was Alexander the eldest son?
Of course, I had guessed it a long while ago; but it is one thing to guess, another to know; and I sat stunned with my good fortune, and could scarce grow to believe that the same poor lad who had trudged in the dust from Ettrick Forest not two days ago, was now one of the rich of the earth, and had a house and broad lands, and might mount his horse tomorrow.
All these pleasant things, and a thousand others, crowded into my mind, as I sat staring before me out of the inn window, and paying no heed to what I saw; only I remember that my eye lighted on Captain Hoseason down on the pier among his seamen, and speaking with some authority.
But indeed, he was neither so good as I supposed him, nor quite so bad as Ransome did; for, in fact, he was two men, and left the better one behind as soon as he set foot on board his vessel. The next thing, I heard my uncle calling me, and found the pair in the road together. It was the captain who addressed me, and that with an air very flattering to a young lad of grave equality.
Balfour tells me great things of you; and for my own part, I like your looks. Ye shall come on board my brig for half an hour, till the ebb sets, and drink a bowl with me.
Now, I longed to see the inside of a ship more than words can tell; but I was not going to put myself in jeopardy, and I told him my uncle and I had an appointment with a lawyer. Come aboard till I can get a word with ye. Any friend of Mr. A roll of tobacco? Indian feather-work? By this time we were at the boat-side, and he was handing me in. I did not dream of hanging back; I thought the poor fool!
As soon as we were all set in our places, the boat was thrust off from the pier and began to move over the waters: and what with my pleasure in this new movement and my surprise at our low position, and the appearance of the shores, and the growing bigness of the brig as we drew near to it, I could hardly understand what the captain said, and must have answered him at random. In this I was whipped into the air and set down again on the deck, where the captain stood ready waiting for me, and instantly slipped back his arm under mine.
There I stood some while, a little dizzy with the unsteadiness of all around me, perhaps a little afraid, and yet vastly pleased with these strange sights; the captain meanwhile pointing out the strangest, and telling me their names and uses. I felt I was lost. With all my strength, I plucked myself clear of him and ran to the bulwarks. Sure enough, there was the boat pulling for the town, with my uncle sitting in the stern.
It was the last I saw. There sounded in my ears a roaring of water as of a huge mill-dam, the thrashing of heavy sprays, the thundering of the sails, and the shrill cries of seamen. The whole world now heaved giddily up, and now rushed giddily downward; and so sick and hurt was I in body, and my mind so much confounded, that it took me a long while, chasing my thoughts up and down, and ever stunned again by a fresh stab of pain, to realise that I must be lying somewhere bound in the belly of that unlucky ship, and that the wind must have strengthened to a gale.
With the clear perception of my plight, there fell upon me a blackness of despair, a horror of remorse at my own folly, and a passion of anger at my uncle, that once more bereft me of my senses. When I returned again to life, the same uproar, the same confused and violent movements, shook and deafened me; and presently, to my other pains and distresses, there was added the sickness of an unused landsman on the sea.
In that time of my adventurous youth, I suffered many hardships; but none that was so crushing to my mind and body, or lit by so few hopes, as these first hours aboard the brig. I heard a gun fire, and supposed the storm had proved too strong for us, and we were firing signals of distress. The thought of deliverance, even by death in the deep sea, was welcome to me.
We were then passing, it appeared, within some miles of Dysart, where the brig was built, and where old Mrs. How long, therefore, I lay waiting to hear the ship split upon some rock, or to feel her reel head foremost into the depths of the sea, I have not the means of computation.
But sleep at length stole from me the consciousness of sorrow. I was awakened by the light of a hand-lantern shining in my face.
A small man of about thirty, with green eyes and a tangle of fair hair, stood looking down at me. I answered by a sob; and my visitor then felt my pulse and temples, and set himself to wash and dress the wound upon my scalp.
What, man? Cheer up! Have you had any meat? I said I could not look at it: and thereupon he gave me some brandy and water in a tin pannikin, and left me once more to myself. The next time he came to see me, I was lying betwixt sleep and waking, my eyes wide open in the darkness, the sickness quite departed, but succeeded by a horrid giddiness and swimming that was almost worse to bear.
I ached, besides, in every limb, and the cords that bound me seemed to be of fire. The man with the green eyes was the first to descend the ladder, and I noticed that he came somewhat unsteadily. He was followed by the captain. Neither said a word; but the first set to and examined me, and dressed my wound as before, while Hoseason looked me in my face with an odd, black look. Here he is; here he shall bide. Paid I am, and none too much, to be the second officer of this old tub, and you ken very well if I do my best to earn it.
But I was paid for nothing more. Riach, looking him steadily in the face. Thereupon the captain ascended the ladder; and I, who had lain silent throughout this strange conversation, beheld Mr.
Riach turn after him and bow as low as to his knees in what was plainly a spirit of derision. Even in my then state of sickness, I perceived two things: that the mate was touched with liquor, as the captain hinted, and that drunk or sober he was like to prove a valuable friend. It was a blessed thing indeed to open my eyes again upon the daylight, and to find myself in the society of men.
The forecastle was a roomy place enough, set all about with berths, in which the men of the watch below were seated smoking, or lying down asleep. The day being calm and the wind fair, the scuttle was open, and not only the good daylight, but from time to time as the ship rolled a dusty beam of sunlight shone in, and dazzled and delighted me.
I had no sooner moved, moreover, than one of the men brought me a drink of something healing which Mr. Riach had prepared, and bade me lie still and I should soon be well again. Here I lay for the space of many days a close prisoner, and not only got my health again, but came to know my companions.
They were a rough lot indeed, as sailors mostly are: being men rooted out of all the kindly parts of life, and condemned to toss together on the rough seas, with masters no less cruel. Yet I had not been many days shut up with them before I began to be ashamed of my first judgment, when I had drawn away from them at the Ferry pier, as though they had been unclean beasts.
No class of man is altogether bad, but each has its own faults and virtues; and these shipmates of mine were no exception to the rule. Rough they were, sure enough; and bad, I suppose; but they had many virtues. They were kind when it occurred to them, simple even beyond the simplicity of a country lad like me, and had some glimmerings of honesty.
There was one man, of maybe forty, that would sit on my berthside for hours and tell me of his wife and child. He was a fisher that had lost his boat, and thus been driven to the deep-sea voyaging. Well, it is years ago now: but I have never forgotten him. Indeed, many of these poor fellows as the event proved were upon their last cruise; the deep seas and cannibal fish received them; and it is a thankless business to speak ill of the dead.
Among other good deeds that they did, they returned my money, which had been shared among them; and though it was about a third short, I was very glad to get it, and hoped great good from it in the land I was going to. The ship was bound for the Carolinas; and you must not suppose that I was going to that place merely as an exile.
The trade was even then much depressed; since that, and with the rebellion of the colonies and the formation of the United States, it has, of course, come to an end; but in those days of my youth, white men were still sold into slavery on the plantations, and that was the destiny to which my wicked uncle had condemned me. The cabin-boy Ransome from whom I had first heard of these atrocities came in at times from the round-house, where he berthed and served, now nursing a bruised limb in silent agony, now raving against the cruelty of Mr.
Riach was sullen, unkind, and harsh when he was sober, and Mr. Shuan would not hurt a fly except when he was drinking. I asked about the captain; but I was told drink made no difference upon that man of iron. I did my best in the small time allowed me to make some thing like a man, or rather I should say something like a boy, of the poor creature, Ransome.
But his mind was scarce truly human. In a town, he thought every second person a decoy, and every third house a place in which seamen would be drugged and murdered. To be sure, I would tell him how kindly I had myself been used upon that dry land he was so much afraid of, and how well fed and carefully taught both by my friends and my parents: and if he had been recently hurt, he would weep bitterly and swear to run away; but if he was in his usual crackbrain humour, or still more if he had had a glass of spirits in the roundhouse, he would deride the notion.
It was Mr. Riach Heaven forgive him! Some of the men laughed, but not all; others would grow as black as thunder thinking, perhaps, of their own childhood or their own children and bid him stop that nonsense, and think what he was doing.
As for me, I felt ashamed to look at him, and the poor child still comes about me in my dreams. All this time, you should know, the Covenant was meeting continual head-winds and tumbling up and down against head-seas, so that the scuttle was almost constantly shut, and the forecastle lighted only by a swinging lantern on a beam. And a change I was to get, as you shall hear; but I must first tell of a conversation I had with Mr. Riach, which put a little heart in me to bear my troubles.
Getting him in a favourable stage of drink for indeed he never looked near me when he was sober , I pledged him to secrecy, and told him my whole story. He now sets out to find the House of Shaws. He locates the house and sees his uncle. The House of Shaws and its master seem to suit each other, as they both seem old, dark, and somehow, evil. The house is falling apart and Uncle Ebenezer is a miser who exists on frugal meals,with no help around the house.
David soon begins to suspect that his father might have been the elder brother in which case the whole Balfour estate would be his by rights. After an accident in the dark house, he also begins to suspect that his uncle wants to get rid of him. Meanwhile, Ebenezer Balfour arranges with an unscrupulous sea captain to have David kidnapped and sold as a slave in America. David finds himself on board the brig, Covenant. The crew is a rough lot and things soon get out of hand as the first mate kills the cabin boy Ransome while in a drunken rage.
David now takes Ransome's place and wonders what his fate is going to be. Meanwhile, the crew pick up a highlander named Alan Breck after the Covenant hits a boat killing everyone except for this man. David discovers that the crew is plotting to kill Alan Breck for his money. The two form a team, surprise the rough crewmen and kill most of them, including the first mate.
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