John A’Boe: A Tale of the Douglas Wars

Widow A’Boe was a portioner on the Abbey lands of Dundrennan, and was owner of some cows and sheep. All her sons were followers of Archibald, the Grim, but her youngest bairn John, who wanted the military ardour of his brethren; and during every conscription after he came of age, had hid himself amongst the whins and broom, or in some of the caves on the sea coast of Monkland. It was said by some that he must have been of the lineage of the Black Douglas, for like them he was of gigantic structure, huge of limb, a large head with long black hair and beard, and a visage fierce and grim. But although, in external appearance, the resemblance was great and striking, yet he wanted the marital spirit of that gallant race, and no spark ever came from his large dark eye of that electric lightning which is said to have glanced flash after flash from the Black Douglas in battle with his English foes. On the contrary, John A’Boe was lazy, chicken-hearted, and a coward, and he liked better to lounge about the Abbey gate, and devour the beef and bread, distributed daily by the charitable monks.

It was a summer day, hot and sultry, when Widow A’Boe sent her wayward son with a large butter pig—her annual offering to the Lord Abbot. She wrapped it carefully in an old sail, the remnant of some shipwreck, and tying it firmly on his back, gave him many directions how to behave, and principally, on no account to unloose or meddle with the butter pig. On then trudged John, until he reached the hill of Hether Hayhfield, when being weary and thirsty, he set down his burden, and drank deep of the running stream. He then lay down on the grass, opened up the pig, and was thinking, no doubt, what a glorious morsel it would make if spread thick on the sweet bread of the holy monks. A swarm of flies soon covered the butter pig at least half an inch deep, but John instantly despatched them with one flaff of his bonnet: he then picked and counted them to the number of one hundred and more. I will astonish the Abbot, said John to himself, he will think my valour has slain a hundred southrons, and great will be my reward; and Earl Douglas will make me a knight, and I shall become the dread and terror of all the king’s enemies; so taking the old sail, he printed thereon, with a bit of keel in large red letters, these words—

Here am I, John A’boe,
I killed a hundred at a blow!

Stretching himself on the grass, John in a few minutes was fast asleep; but how great must have been his surprise and consternation, upon being awakened, and roughly laid hold of, by Sir Adam Cairns, of Orchardton Tower, who at that moment came up with a party of horse, which he was trotting across the country to intercept a body of English, who had penetrated as far as Kirkcudbright, and were carrying off some cattle and sheep Knowing the strength and character of John, Sir Adam ordered him to be mounted, and bound securely, on a strong war-horse—the sail flag was displayed on a spearstaff as a banner. No sooner was this done than the enemy appeared at the foot of the hill, on which the abbot had lately set up a large gallows to hang some rebellious vassals. Sir Adam ordered the horns to sound a charge, and crying his war slogan, “A Douglas! a Douglas!” descended upon the English horse at full speed. First and foremost was the mettlesome steed which bore the renowned John A’Boe. Galloping over the hill where stood the gallows, John in desperation, catched hold of it with both hands, thinking thereby to stop the horse, and save himself from the deadly swords of the English—but in vain! up came the “gallows tree,” and on rushed the war steed: side by side galloped on Thomas MacCartney, with he sail banner fluttering in the breeze. The affrighted English, reading the terrible banner, and seeing fierce and giant-looking John A’Boe, armed with a ponderous gallows, turned the horses’ heads and fled, all but their leader, the renowned Sir Andreas De Harcla, who fell fighting sword in hand. All the English were cruelly slaughtered; not one, it is said, escaped alive. John A’Boe was knighted by Archibald the Grim, and got a grant from the Abbot of Dundrennan of the lands yet called the “Gallows Hill,” and there are yet people of the name of Boe in the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright.

R.T.
Auchencairn, Dec. 1, 1846.

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