ppointment; never once did she remitthe vigilant, keen look which seemed to pierce into my very soul.
For a short space of time there was something of antagonism to her; butthis died away imperceptibly, and I neither cared nor thought about her,except when my attention would be called to her. I was becoming wrappedin the realisation of the mightier forces around me.
Just where the laneway from the cliff joins Whinnyfold there is a steepzigzag path running down to the stony beach far below where the fisherskeep their boats and which is protected from almost the wildest seas bythe great black rock--the Caudman,--which fills the middle of the littlebay, leaving deep channels on either hand. When I was come to this spot,suddenly all the sounds of the night seemed to cease. The very air grewstill so that the grasses did not move or rustle, and the waters of theswirling tide ceased to run in grim silence on their course. Even tothat inner sense, which was so new to me that the change in everythingto which it was susceptible became at once noticeable, all things stoodstill. It was as though the spirits of earth and air and water wereholding their breath for some rare portent. Indeed I noticed as my eyeranged the surface of the sea, that the moon track was for the time nolonger rippled, but lay in a broad glistening band.
The only living thing in all the wide world was, it seemed to me, thefigure of Gormala as, with lowering eyes and suspended breath, she stoodwatching me with uncompromising, persistent sternness.
Then my own heart seemed to stand still, to be a part of the grimsilence of the waiting forces of the world. I was not frightened; I wasnot even amazed. All seemed so thoroughly in keeping with the prevailinginfluence of the time that I did not feel even a moment of surprise.
Up the steep path came a silent procession of ghostly figures, so mistyof outline that through the grey green of their phantom being the rocksand moonlit sea were apparent, and even the velvet blackness of theshadows of the rocks did not lose their gloom. And yet each figure wasdefined so accurately that every feature, every particle of dress oraccoutrement could be discerned. Even the sparkle of their eyes in thatgrim waste of ghostly grey was like the lambent flashes of phosphoriclight in the foam of moving water cleft by a swift prow. There was noneed for me to judge by the historical sequence of their attire, or byany inference of hearing; I knew in my heart that these were the ghostsof the dead who had been drowned in the waters of the Cruden Skares.
Indeed the moments of their passing--and they were many for the line wasof sickening length--became to me a lesson of the long flight of time.At the first were skin-clad savages with long, wild hair matted; thenothers with rude, primitive clothing. And so on in historic order men,aye, and here and there a woman, too, of many lands, whose garments wereof varied cut and substance. Red-haired Vikings and black-haired Celtsand Phoenicians, fair-haired Saxons and swarthy Moors in flowing robes.At first the figures, chiefly of the barbarians, were not many; but asthe sad procession passed along I could see how each later year hadbrought its ever-growing tale of loss and disaster, and added more andfaster to the grim harvest of the sea. A vast number of the phantoms hadpassed when there came along a great group which at once attracted myattention. They were all swarthy, and bore themselves proudly undertheir cuirasses and coats of mail, or their garb as fighting men ofthe sea. Spaniards they were, I knew from their dress, and of threecenturies back. For an instant my heart leapt; these were men of thegreat Armada, come up from the wreck of some lost galleon or patache tovisit once again the glimpses of the Moon. They were of lordly mien,with large aquiline features and haughty eyes. As they passed, one ofthem turned and looked at me. As his eyes lit on me, I saw spring intothem, as though he were quick, dread, and hate, and fear.
Hitherto I had been impressed, awed, by the indifference of the passingghosts. They had looked nowhere, but with steady, silent, even tread hadpassed on their way. But when this one looked at me it was a glance fromthe spirit world which chilled me to the very soul.
But he too passed on. I stood at the head of the winding path, havingthe dead man still on my shoulders and looking with sinking heart at thesad array of the victims of the Cruden Skares. I noticed that most whocame now were seamen, with here and there a group of shoresmen and a fewwomen amongst them. The fishermen were many, and without exception woregreat sea boots. And so with what patience I could I waited for the end.
At length it came in the shape of a dim figure of great stature, andboth of whose arms hung limp. The blood from a gash on his forehead hadstreamed on to his golden beard, and the golden eyes looked far away.With a shudder I saw that this was the ghost of the man whose body, nowless warm, lay upon my shoulders; and so I knew that Lauchlane Macleodwas dead. I was relieved when I saw that he did not even look at me;though as I moved on, following the procession, he walked beside me withequal steps, stopping and moving as I stopped and moved.
The silence of death was upon the little hamlet of Whinnyfold. There wasnot a sign of life; not a dog barked as the grim procession had moved upthe steep path or now filed across the running stream and moved alongthe footpath toward Cruden. Gormala with eager eyes kept watchingme; and as the minutes wore on I began to resume my double action ofthought, for I could see in her face that she was trying to reason outfrom my own expression something of what I was looking at. As we movedalong she now began to make suggestions to me in a fierce whisper,evidently hoping that she might learn something from my acquiescence in,or negation of, her thought. Through that ghostly silence her livingvoice cut with the harshness of a corncrake.
"Shearing the silence of the night with ragged edge."
Perhaps it was for the best; looking back now on that awful experience,I know that no man can say what his mind may suffer in the aftertime whowalks alone with the Dead. That I was strung to some amazing pitch wasmanifested by the fact that I did not seem to feel the great weightwhich lay upon my shoulders. I have naturally vast strength and theathletic training of my youth had developed it highly. But the weight ofan ordinary man is much to hold or carry for even a short time, and thebody which I bore was almost that of a giant.
The path across the neck of land which makes the Skares a promontory isflat, with here and there a deep cleft like a miniature ravine where thewater from the upland rushes in flood time down to the sea. All theserills were now running strong, but I could hear no sound of murmuringwater, no splash as the streams leapt over the edge of the cliff on therocks below in whitening spray. The ghostly procession did not pause atany of these streams, but moved on impassively to the farther side wherethe path trends down to the sands of Cruden Bay. Gormala stood a momentwatching my eyes as they swept the long line passing the angle so that Icould see them all at once. That she guessed something was evident fromher speech:
"They are many; his eyes range wide!" I started, and she knew that shehad guessed aright. This one guess seemed to supply her with illimitabledata; she evidently knew something of the spirit world, though she couldnot see into its mysteries. Her next words brought enlightenment to me:
"They are human spirits; they follow the path that the feet o' men haemade!"
It was so. The procession did not float over the surface of field orsand, but took its painful way down the zigzag of the cliff and over therocky path through the great boulders of the foreshore. When the head ofit reached the sand, it passed along the summit of the ridge, just asevery Sunday night the fishermen of Whinnyfold and Collieston did inreturning to their herring boats at Peterhead.
The tramp across the sands was long and dreary. Often as I had takenthat walk in rain or storm, with the wind almost sweeping me off my feetwhilst the sand drift from the bent-covered hills almost cut my cheeksand ears, I had never felt the way to be so long or so hard to travel.Though I did not realise it at the time, the dead man's weight wasbeginning to tell sorely upon me. Across the Bay I could see the fewlights in the village of Port Erroll that were to be seen at such atime of night; and far over the water came the cold grey light which isthe sign of the waning of the night rather than of t
he coming of themorning.
When we came to the Hawklaw, the head of the procession turned inwardthrough the sandhills. Gormala, watching my eyes, saw it and anextraordinary change came over her. For an instant she was as ifstricken, and stood stock still. Then she raised her hands in wonder,and said in an awed whisper:
"The Holy Well! They gang to St. Olaf's well! The Lammas floods will ayeserve them weel."
With an instinct of curiosity strong upon me I hurried on so as to headthe procession. As I moved along the rough path amongst the sandhills Ifelt the weight of the burden on my shoulders grow heavier and heavier,so that my feet dragged as do the feet of one in a night-mare. As Imoved on, I looked round instinctively and saw that the shade ofLauchlane Macleod no longer kept pace with me, but retained its place inthe procession. Gormala's evil eye was once more upon me, but with herdiabolical cunning she guessed the secret of my looking round. She movedalong, not with me but at the rate she had been going as though sheliked or expected to remain in juxtaposition to the shade of the deadman; some purpose of her own was to be fulfilled.
As I pressed on, the shades around me seemed to grow dimmer and dimmerstill; till at the last I could see little more than a film or haze.When I came to St. Olaf's well--then merely a rough pool at the base ofthe high land that stretches back from the Hawklaw--the ghostly mist wasbeginning to fade into the water. I stood hard by, and the weight uponmy shoulders became dreadful. I could hardly stand; I determined,however, to hold on as long as I could and see what would happen. Thedead man, too, was becoming colder! I did not know whether the dimmingof the shadows was from this cause, or because the spirit of the man wasfarther away. It was possibly both, for as the silent, sad processioncame on I could see more distinctly. When the wraith of the Spaniardturned and looked at me, he seemed once more to look with living eyesfrom a living soul. Then there was a dreary wait whilst the restcame along and passed in awesome stillness down into the well anddisappeared. The weight upon my shoulders now became momentarily moreintolerable. At last I could bear it no longer, and half bending Iallowed the body to slip to the ground, I only holding the hands tosteady the descent. Gormala was now opposite to me, and seeing whatI had done leaped towards me with a loud cry. For one dim moment thewraith of the dead man stood above its earthly shell; and then I saw theghostly vision no more.
At that instant, just as Gormala was about to touch the dead body, therewas a loud hiss and murmur of waters. The whole pool burst up in a greatfountain, scattering sand and water around for a wide space. I rushedback; Gormala did the same.
Then the waters receded again, and when I looked, the corpse ofLauchlane Macleod was gone. It was swallowed up in the Holy Well.
Overcome with physical weariness and strange horror of the scene I sankdown on the wet sand. The scene whirled round me.... I remember nomore.
CHAPTER VI
THE MINISTERS OF THE DOOM
When at last I looked around me I was not surprised at anything I saw;not even at the intense face of Gormala whose eyes, bright in the fullmoonlight, were searching my face more eagerly than ever. I was lying onthe sand, and she was bending over me so closely that her face almosttouched mine. It was evident, even to my half-awake sensibilities, thatshe was listening intently, lest even a whispered word from me should bemissed.
The witch-woman was still seemingly all afire, but withal there wasmanifested in her face and bearing a sense of disappointment whichcomforted me. I waited a few minutes until I felt my brain clear, andmy body rested from the intolerable strain which it had undergone incarrying that terrific burden from Whinnyfold.