"I never liked the landsman life, the earth is aye the sameGie me the ocean for my dower, my vessel for my hame.When life's last sun gangs feebly doon, and death comes to the door,—When a' the world's a dream to us, we'll go to sea no more,No more—we'll go to sea no more!"—Scottish Song.
Lord Drummond lived to see one of his daughters become a countess, and the other in a fair way to wear a coronet; for little Lady Beatrix grew a beautiful woman, and in after years became the Countess of James Earl of Arran, commander of the Scots in the French and Danish wars; while Elizabeth was wedded to the war-like Master of Angus, who fell at Flodden, with two hundred knights and gentlemen, all of the great and gallant Douglas' name; and could the proud old lord have had a vision of her descendants, his ambitious heart would have swelled with joy, for her grand-daughter, Margaret, became the mother of Henry, King of Scotland, from whom the kings of Britain, France, Spain, Prussia, and the emperors of Germany, are descended.
After the horrible catastrophe which closed our last chapter, we at first intended to have said no more; but as this narrative has partaken much more of the character of a veritable history than a romance, a few parting words are necessary, before we say farewell to those who have accompanied us so far.
The historians of later times have revealed to us what was then unknown,—that the unhappy Margaret Drummond was, as Robert Douglas has it, "taken away to make room for a daughter of England," and that her two elder sisters perished with her.
In their bridal wreaths and veils each was interred, with a golden chalice on her breast, in that old cathedral aisle; and there they sleep, side by side, where for many years solemn masses were said over them, until the belief in such things passed away.
Three blue slabs cover them, and mossy ruins and grassy graves are around them. The Allan murmurs by unchanged; but the trees that shade it are old now, and they moan as they shake their rustling leaves in the wind that comes from the distant Grampians. Few now know the stones that mark the graves of the three hapless sisters—the three beautiful Drummonds; for it is often the way of the world, that those whose couch in life has been decked with every splendour, have their bed of eternity forgotten and neglected.
Neither David Falconer nor Robert Barton died of broken hearts, as the heroes of romance might have done; but broken hearts were as little in fashion then as now. They sorrowed long and deeply, like noble and true-hearted men, and they never married.
Barton was knighted, and became comptroller of the royal household; the arquebussier, as we are informed by Buchanan, was slain at the head of the Royal Guard, of which he was captain, when covering the retreat of the king's artillery at the siege of Tantallon. He was then a man well up in years, being past his seventieth birthday; and when his body was stripped and plundered by the Douglas troopers, there were found, in a little bag at his neck, an Agnus Dei, a lock of hair, a ring, and a medal.
The ring and the lock of hair belonged to Sybilla Drummond, and the medal was the gift of King James IV. Some monks of North Berwick found the body as it lay on the highway; and though it had ever been Sir David's wish to lie in Dunblane, they buried him in the Auld-kirk close by the sea, which is now washing its burying-ground away.
The reader will naturally suppose that after achieving the long-desired wish of the English faction, in removing the unfortunate Margaret, the enterprising Lairds of Sauchie and Kyneff ultimately obtained their peerages; but such was not the case,—why, we are not in a position to state, for no doubt they, or their descendants, would have shone conspicuously in that black list of political traitors who broke the heart of King James V.
Sir Andrew Wood of Largo survived to see the early part of the reign of James V. He was then in extreme old age; and after a long career of faithful service and brilliant achievement, and after fighting his old ship, theYellow Caravel, as long as her timbers held together, he retired to the Castle of Largo, in and around which Cuddie Clewline, the coxswain of his barge, Willie Wad, the gunner, Archy of Anster, the boatswain, and nearly all his crew, were located; for the Scottish Nelson lived in his old age, and died, when the hour came, like a true Scottish Trunnion.
When he grew feeble and unable to ride to Largo Kirk, where Father Zuill was chaplain, and where he long strove in vain to achieve the development of the parabolic speculum of Marcellus, it was proposed to make a litter, wherein his old shipmates might convey him on their shoulders.
"Nay, nay, Robbie Barton," said he, "I ken nothing of how to navigate such a craft; every man to his trade,—the gunner to his lintstock, the steersman to his helm, and the cook to the foresheet. Gadzooks, I shall be rowed in my barge as of yore!"
From the northern gate of Largo Castle he had a canal cut through a wooded hollow to Largo Kirk, and along this he was rowed every Sunday by his old barge's crew, with Cuddie in the prow, bearing a boat-hook, and keeping a look-out ahead, and an admiral's broad pennon floating in the water astern.
The remains of this canal are still distinctly visible at Upper Largo; and along that watery path, when his years were full, his remains were rowed by torchlight to the venerable fane where his tomb is yet to be seen; and where now he sleeps, with his compass, his cross-staff, sword, and whistle, in his coffin; and so he passed away, "believing and hoping," as he said to those who wept around him, "that when piped up aloft at the last muster-day, he would be able to give as good an account of his steerage, variation, and leeway in life, as ever he had done in the longest voyage of the dear oldYellow Frigate—God bless every plank of her!"
Such were the last words of the brave old Laird of Largo.
1. Concerning Lady Margaret Drummond, a long and interesting note will be found in Tytler's admirableHistory of Scotland, vol. iv. The king became deeply attached to her at an early period. In his first Parliament she was voted an allowance for dresses. Douglas, in his Peerage, stated that she was poisoned in 1501; "great mystery," says Mr. Tytler, "hangs over the death of this royal favourite."
In Moreri'sDictionary, it is stated that John, first Lord Drummond, "had four daughters, one of whom, named Margaret, was so much beloved by James IV., that he wished to marry her; but as they were connected by blood, and a dispensation from the Pope was required, the impatient monarch concluded a private marriage, from which clandestine union sprang a daughter, who became the wife of the Earl of Huntly. The dispensation having arrived, the king determined to celebrate his nuptials publicly; but the jealousy of some of the nobles against the house of Drummond, suggested to them the cruel project of taking off Margaret by poison, in order that her family might not enjoy the glory of giving two queens to Scotland.
"Certain it is, that Margaret Drummond, with Euphemia and the Lady Sybilla, her sisters, died suddenly at the same time, with symptoms exciting a strong suspicion of poison, which it was thought had been administered to them at breakfast. Sir Walter Drummond, Lord Clerk Register, their paternal uncle, was at the time, Dean of Dunblane, a circumstance which seems to have led to their interment there, the family having lately removed from Stobhall, their original seat, on the banks of the Tay, to Drummond Castle, where probably they had no place of internment."
James IV. appears never to have forgotten her, for down to the end of his life, are entries in the Treasurer's accounts of the payments made to the two priests who sung masses for her soul in Dunblane.
2. Concerning the story told by the boatswain in Chapter X., I may mention, that in Ogilby'sAfrica, a gigantic folio work, published in "the White Fryers, London, 1670," will be found a curious description of the Guanchos, and their mode of preserving the dead, which agrees entirely with the description thereof given by the shipmate of our admiral. The idea of the chalked ship sailingoffthe wall is not original, for I remember once hearing a soldier tell some such story to his comrades as they sat round a guard-room fire, on a cold winter night in North America.
3. I may remark, that though I have rather anticipated the time of Sir Andrew Wood's two battles, for the purposes of my own story, I have striven on the details of them, and everywhere else, to adhere closely to history, to character, and to costume, &c., and to those who are curious in the matter, much information concerning the admiral will be found inTait's Magazinefor April and May, 1852. "He was," says Tytler, "an enterprising and opulent merchant, a brave warrior, and skilful naval commander, an able financialist, intimately acquainted with the management of commercial transactions, and a stalwart feudal baron." He died about the year 1510, and left several sons, one of whom became a senator of the College of Justice. There is still remaining a circular tower of the castellated dwelling erected by the brave old admiral. A tablet, bearing an inscription to his memory, and an extract from his charter, was inserted in the mouldering wall by the late General Durham; on the summit of the ruin was one of the iron thirty-two pounders recovered from the wreck of theRoyal George, which pointed towards the sandy shore and beautiful bay of Largo, and formed a characteristic monument to the stout old captain of theYellow Caravel.
The cannon is now placed in front of the modern mansion-house, but the white marble slab yet remains above the door of the old one, and is inscribed as follows:—
"This Tablet was placed byGENERAL JAMES DURHAM, of Largo,In the year M.DCCC.XXXII.To remind posterity thatThese are the remains of the Royal Residence,Granted with the lands of Largo, byJAMES THE THIRDTo His Admiral Sir Andrew Wood,Who repaired and strengthened the FortaliceBy the hands of Englishmen captured by himThis donation from his grateful SovereignWas the well merited rewardOf his brave and generous conduct,In successfully defending,At his own private expense,The seas and shores of ScotlandFrom the otherwise unconquered Navy of England;Or, as his charter bears:'Propter servicia tam per terram quam per mare,in pace et in guerra, gratuiter impensa.'"
Sir Alexander Durham of Largo, Lord Lyon King-at-Arms, acquired the estate of Largo Anno Dom. 1659.