noon
But , leaving the freebooter and his son on the turret of their fastness , we shall also , for a few moments , leave Dumfriesshire , and carrying back our narrative for some weeks , introduce the reader to the ancient town of Berwick-upon-Tweed . On Wednesday , the 8th of April , 1603 , every soul in the good town of Berwick was up by daybreak ; -- wife and maiden flaunted in their newest gowns , with ample fardingales , and the sweating mechanic looked as spruce in his well brushed `` jack , '' as a courtly cavalier . By sunrise , the cannon thundered from the ramparts . Before noon , the Marshal , Sir John Carey , at the head of the garrison , composed of horse and foot , marched out of the town towards Lamberton , firing _ feu-d ' - joies _ as they went , while the cannon still pealed and the people shouted . The thunder of the artillery became more frequent -- the bells rang merrily -- the volleys of the garrison became louder and more loud , as though they again approached , and `` He comes ! -- He comes ! '' shouted the crowd ; `` Hurra !