the Forth, with the Flower and Yellow Caravel, while the contending forces
were mustering near Stirling—landing occasionally with his brother and armed
followers, to aid the royal party should the battle be fought in the neighbourhood, but still keeping near his shipping, to hold the command of the sea, and be ready to receive his master in the event of a reverse. The affair was soon decided, by the battle of Sauchieburn, in which the forces of James were defeated, and himself foully assassinated while flying from the field. The deed was done so secretly, that both friends and enemies supposed he was still alive, and had taken shelter in the Yellow Caravel, a supposition strengthened by the
fact that boats had been employed all day in conveying wounded men from
the shore to the vessels. The victorious insurgents, who had now reached Leith,
and were aware of Wood's fidelity to his master, resolved to remove the king
from his keeping; and accordingly, in the first instance, they sent messengers to inquire if James was in his ship. He replied that he was not, and gave them leave to search it if they were still unconvinced. Not satisfied, however,
with the assurance, the insurgent lords, now masters of Scotland, sent him an
order to appear before their council, and there state fully how matters stood;
but this he boldly refused to do, without receiving sufficient pledges for his safe
return. Powerful though they were, he was upon his own element, where he
could annoy them, or escape from them at pleasure. Aware of this, they were
obliged to give hostages, in the persons of Lords Fleming and Seton, that he
should come and return unharmed. The lords being safely housed in his cabin,
Sir Andrew landed from his barge at Leith, and presented himself before the
council. On his entrance an affecting incident occurred. Young James IV.,
who had seen so little of his murdered parent that he had grown up ignorant of
his person, and now beheld a stately, noble-looking man, clothed in rich armour,
enter the hall, went up to him, and said, "Sir, are you my father?" "Sir, I am not your father," replied the admiral, while tears fell fast from his eyes at the question; "but I was a servant to your father, and shall be to his authority till I die, and enemy to those who were the occasion of his down-putting."
The dialogue that occurred between him and the lords, after this affecting incident, was brief and stern. They asked if he knew of the king, or where he was, to which he answered, that he neither knew of his highness, nor where he was at present. They then demanded who those persons were who had retired from the field, and been conveyed to his ships; to which he answered, "It was I and my brother, who were ready to have spent our lives with the king in his defence." "He is not, then, in your ships?" they rejoined; to which he answered boldly, "He is not in my ships, but would to God that he were in my ships in safety; I should then defend him, and keep him scatheless from all the treasonable creatures who have murdered him, for I hope to see the day when they shall be hanged and drawn for their demerits." These were hard words to digest, and when we remember the names of those proud magnates of whom the council was composed, and how unscrupulous they were in dealing with their enemies or resenting an affront, we can the better appreciate the boldness of the man who, though alone, thus rebuked and denounced them. They writhed under his bitter words, but dared not resent them, for they knew that their brethren, Fleming and Seton, were in the Yellow Caravel, and that the good ship had ropes and yard-arms. They dismissed him, therefore, in safety, and it was well that they did so; for when the lords who were in pledge
