Fiction > Book editions > London, 1893 - Catriona

THE BASS. 157
I
t could have heard the pious sound of psalms out of the
martyrs' dungeons, and seen the soldiers tramp the
ramparts with their glinting pipes, and the dawn
rising behind them out of the North Sea.
No doubt it was a good deal Andie and his tales
that put these fancies in my head. He was extra-
ordinary well acquainted with the story of the rock in
all particulars, down to the names of private soldiers,
. his father having served there in that same capacit}^
He was gifted besides with a natural genius for narra-
: tion, so that the people seemed to speak and the
[ things to be done before your face. This gift of his
j and my assiduity to listen brought us the more close
! together. I could not honestly deny but what I
! liked him ; I soon saAv that he liked me ; and indeed,
I from the first I had set myself out to capture his
j good w^iU. An odd circumstance (to be told presently)
I effected this beyond my expectation ; but even in
j early days we made a friendly pair to be a prisoner
and his gaoler.
I should trifle with my conscience if I pretended
I my stay upon the Bass was wholly disagreeable.
i It seemed to me a safe place, as though I was escaped
t there out of my troubles. No harm was to be offered
me ; a material impossibility, rock and the deep sea,
; prevented me from fresh attempts ; I felt I had my
: life safe and my honour safe, and there were times
.when I allowed myself to gloat on them like stolen
; waters. At other times my thoughts wxre very
different. I recalled how strong I had expressed
myself both to Rankeillor and to Stewart; I reflected
' that my captivity upon the Bass, in view of a great