The Master of Ballantrae Chapter 8

Thomas Copeland (0:04)

Chapter 8 of The Master of Ballantrae by Robert Louis Stevenson.

Chapter 8 The Enemy in the House It is a strange thing that I should be at a stick for a date, the date besides of an incident that changed the very nature of my life and sent us all into foreign lands. But the truth is I was stricken out of all my habitudes and find my journals very ill read up. Note. Ordered. Return to text. The day not indicated sometimes for a week or two together, and the whole fashion of the thing like that of a man near desperate.

It was late in March, at least, or early in April, 1764 I had slept heavily and wakened with a premonition of some evil to befall. So strong was this upon my spirit that I hurried down stairs in my shirt and britches, and my hand, I remember, shook upon the rail. It was a cold, sunny morning with a thick white frost. The blackbird sang exceeding sweet and loud about the house of Durrisdeer, and there was a noise of the sea in all the chambers. As I came by the doors of the hall, another sound arrested me. Voices, talking. I drew nearer, and stood like a man dreaming. Here was certainly a human voice, and that in my own master's house, and yet I knew it not. Certainly human speech, and that in my native land, and yet, listen as I pleased, I could not catch one syllable. An old tale started up in my mind of a fairy wife, or perhaps only a wandering stranger, that came to the place of my father some generations back and stayed the matter of a week, talking often in a tongue that signified nothing to the hearers, and went again as she had come under cloud of night, leaving not so much as a name behind her. A little fear I had, but more curiosity, and I opened the hall door and entered. The supper things still lay upon the table. The shutters were still closed, although day peeped in the divisions, and the great room was lighted only with a single taper and the shining of the fire.

Close in the chimney sat two men. The one that was wrapped in a cloak and wore boots, I knew at once. It was the bird of Il Omen back again. Of the other, who was set close to the red embers and made up into a bundle like a mummy, I could but see that he was an avian of a darker hue than any man of Europe, very fraily built, with a singular tall forehead and a secret eye. Several packets and a small belize were on the floor, and to judge by the smallness of this luggage and by the condition of the master's boots grossly patched by some unscrupulous country cobbler, evil had not prospered. He rose upon my entrance, our eyes crossed, and I know not why it should have been, but my courage rose like a lark on a May morning.

said I. Is this you?

And I was pleased with the unconcern of my own voice. It is even myself, worthy McCullough, says the master.

This time you have brought the black dog visibly upon your back, I continued. Referring to Secundra Das, asked the master, let me present you. He is a native gentleman of India.

Hum! said I. I am no great lover either of you or your friends, Mr. Bally, but I will let a little daylight in and have a look at you. And so saying, I undid the shutters of the eastern window.

By the light of the morning I could perceive the man was changed. Later, when we were all together, I was more struck to see how lightly time had dealt with him, but the first glance was otherwise. You are getting an old man, said I. A shade came upon his face. If you could see yourself, said he, you would perhaps not dwell upon the topic. But, I returned, old age is nothing to me. I think I have been always old, and I am now, I thank God, better known and more respected. It is not every one that can say that, Mr. Ballet. The lines in your brow are calamities. Your life begins to close in upon you like a prison. Death will soon be wrapping at the door, and I see not from what source you are to draw your consolations.

Here the Master addressed himself to Secunder Das in Hindustani, from which I gathered, I freely confess with a high degree of pleasure, that my remarks annoyed him.

All this while you may be sure my mind had been busy upon other matters, even while I rallied my enemy, and chiefly as to how I should communicate secretly and quickly with my lord. To this, in the breathing space now given me, I turned all the forces of my mind, when suddenly shifting my eyes, I was aware of the man himself standing in the doorway, and to all appearance quite composed. He had no sooner met my looks than he stepped across the threshold. The Master heard him coming, and advanced upon the other side. About four feet apart these brothers came to a full pause, and stood exchanging steady looks, and then my lord smiled, bowed a little forward, and turned briskly away. M'keller, says he, we must see to breakfast for these travellers. It was plain the Master was a trifle disconcerted, but he assumed the more impudence of speech and manner. I am as hungry as a hawk, says he. Let it be something good, Henry.