Donalblane of Darien

by J. Macdonald Oxley

  CHAPTER XI.

  THE MIDNIGHT ATTACK.

  Donalblane took these difficulties and disasters deeply to heart, notso much on his own account, for, like all brave-spirited boys, he hadno doubt that _he_ would pull through all right somehow, but because ofhis hero, Mr. Paterson, who had won the affection and loyalty of hisyoung heart. He considered him the noblest of men, and more than oncehad got into trouble by hotly resenting the undeserved slurs and sneersthat were too freely cast upon him.

  "Ye dinna ken what ye're saying, ye sneakin' loon!" he had onceretorted to a lanky youth who was meanly making charges against Mr.Paterson that were no less false than frivolous; and when the otherresponded with a blow, Donalblane, taking no account of the disparityin size and age, flung himself at him so fiercely and used his fists tosuch good purpose that the slanderer was soon fain to flee the field.

  "Ye lee, ye lee, and ye ken weel ye're leeing!" he cried indignantly onanother occasion; but this time, his antagonist being a powerful man,Donalblane did not fare so well--in fact, he got a bad thrashing; butas he nursed his bruises he found comfort in the conviction that theywere suffered in a good cause, and that he would never allow Mr.Paterson's reputation to be blackened if he could in any wise help it.

  Among the early victims of the fever had been Mrs. Sutherland and herlittle boy, and, broken in heart and spirit, Mr. Sutherland not longafter joined them in the grave, so that Donalblane felt he had only onefriend left, for somehow he had not taken kindly to any of the othermen. He therefore attached himself closely to Mr. Paterson, and thushad the opportunity of rendering him a supremely important service.

  Mr. Paterson had invited him to share his hut--a mark of esteem thatmade him very pleased and proud, as may be imagined. They had thuslived together for a fortnight, Mr. Paterson devoting himself to thetrying difficulties that surrounded him, while Donalblane spent histime in fishing and hunting, so that they might always be supplied withfood. One day Donald chanced to overhear a conversation between two ofthe worst characters in the colony, which made it clear that they haddesigns upon Mr. Paterson's life. He at once made known hissuspicions, but Mr. Paterson treated the matter lightly.

  "CHANCED TO OVERHEAR A CONVERSATION WHICH MADE IT CLEARTHAT THEY HAD DESIGNS UPON MR. PATERSON'S LIFE."]

  "I am very much obliged to you, my boy," he said, with his rare smile,"but there is nothing to be feared. I understand those fellows. Theywould be well pleased, no doubt, to have me out of the way, but they'dnever have the courage to do what you fear."

  This made Donalblane feel a little easier in his mind; nevertheless, heresolved to keep a watch upon the rascals, and to be alert for anydanger that might threaten.

  "They'll never do Mr. Paterson any harm if I can help it," he said tohimself, and certainly no Scottish chieftain ever had a more loving orloyal clansman than he.

  One stormy night when the wind blew and the rain fell as though theyhad combined in an attack upon the hut, which was none too strong ortight, Donalblane felt restless and wakeful.

  Mr. Paterson, wearied with toil and trial, was sleeping soundly, buthis companion tossed about in his hammock with wide-open eyes.Presently his quick ear caught a sound that he did not think was causedby the storm, but by some person or creature trying to effect anentrance into the hut.

  "What can that be?" he asked himself as he sat up in his hammock, andstrained both eyes and ears to discover something in the surroundinggloom.

  The suspicious sound continued, and Donalblane was just about to wakenMr. Paterson, whose hammock swung on the other side of the hut, whenthe door gave way, and two men rushed in with manifest evil intent.Had Donalblane not been awake at the moment, the villains might havehad easy work; but he was not only awake, but alert, and with aquickness which did great credit to his wits he took instant action.Springing from his hammock, he shouted--

  "Mr. Paterson, wake up! there's danger!" and hurled himself at theforemost man, grasping him about the knees. Down went the scoundrel onhis face, and the other was so close behind that he tripped and fellalso, the two getting tangled up together and giving vent to fearfulwords, while Donalblane, somewhat bruised from the encounter, crawledaway, and darted to the side of Mr. Paterson, who was now fully awake.

  They had nothing in their hands wherewith to defend themselves, and thewould-be assassins were no doubt well armed; but neither of them hadany thought of flight. Not so with the intruders. Realising thattheir foul plot had failed of its purpose, thanks to Donalblane'svigilance, their one idea was to get away, and the fellow that enteredlast did succeed in regaining his feet and rushing out into thedarkness; but the other had been half stunned by his head coming intocontact with a heavy chest, and ere he could escape Mr. Paterson hadthrown himself upon him and pinned him to the ground.

  "A light, Donald--quick, a light!" he called, as he put his wholeweight on the struggling form.

  Donalblane hastened to obey, and the lighting up of the hut revealedthe fact that Mr. Paterson's prisoner was one of the very menDonalblane had overheard conspiring against him. When they had boundthe wretch securely, Donalblane could not resist saying, in a tone ofexultation--

  "Noo, sir, didn't I tell ye? and yet ye wadna listen to me. He's aneo' them, and I can point ye out the other one any day."

  Mr. Paterson, who had already recovered his composure as completely asif nothing had happened, took both the boy's hands in his own, andshook them warmly as he replied, with a look full of gratitude andlove--

  "You were right, Donald, and it was wrong to make light of yourwarning. God be thanked that you were able to baulk the scoundrelsto-night, for if you had not been awake at the moment, I and perhapsyou also would be no longer alive. But evidently it is not the will ofProvidence that we should die yet. Let us kneel and give thanks to Godfor our deliverance."

  And so with the foiled assassin scowling and cursing them as hestrained at his bonds, the two knelt down, while Mr. Paterson pouredforth in prayer his gratitude to God for their merciful deliverance.

  There was no more sleep for either of them that night. In the morningMr. Paterson called the council together, and producing the prisoner,told the story of the night attack.

  Great was the indignation of all who heard him. Although there weremany who blamed him for the failure of their high hopes, and others whowere jealous of his fine qualities and resented his authority, nonewere so base as to desire his death; and if it had not been for hisearnest entreaty, the prisoner would have been condemned to be shotthat very day as a terrible example. But Mr. Paterson magnanimouslyinterceded, with the result that the prisoner and his confederate, ifhe should be found, were banished from the colony, on pain of death ifthey dared to return.

  With the passing of the days matters grew steadily worse at St.Andrews. The plan had been that other ships carrying reinforcements ofmen and supplies should follow the first little fleet after an intervalof some months, and these were now long overdue; yet although the highhill above the settlement was never without watchers, who eagerlyscanned the face of the waters, no sign of sail appeared.

  As a matter of fact, only one ship had been dispatched, and this oneunfortunately foundered in mid-ocean. Meanwhile, deaths were takingplace daily, and those who managed to keep alive were little more thanhaggard, sickly skeletons.

  No wonder that in spite of Mr. Paterson's earnest protest they at lastdetermined to depart from the fatal spot, which, instead of proving aparadise, had been the grave of all their high hopes and of so many oftheir companions. Mr. Paterson, still hopeful of the success of thegreat scheme, pleaded with them not to abandon it. He claimed that todo so would be to be false to the trust placed in them by theircountrymen.

  But they would not listen to him. Their first duty, they retorted, wasto themselves. They must save their own lives. To remain was to die.

  Accordingly, having provisioned the ships as best they could, theyprepared to depart. For the last time they gathered in the rudechurch, while th
e sole surviving minister prayed for the Divineblessing and protection. It was a sad congregation, and Donalblane,whose loyal heart had sympathised to the full with Mr. Paterson'sendeavour to stay the retreat, felt heavier of heart than he had everdone in his life before. Right willingly would he have remained behindwith Mr. Paterson if any good could have been gained thereby. But ifall the others departed, they must needs go too; and after the mournfulservice ended, the boats bore them to the ships, Mr. Paterson being thevery last to leave the shore, which none of them would ever set footupon again.

  CHAPTER XII.

  NEW YORK AND HOME.

  The ships were in no condition to cross the Atlantic, and by the royaldecree the British West Indies were closed against them, while, ofcourse, they dare not trust the mercy of the Spaniards. Their onlyalternative, therefore, was to make their way up to New York in thehope of finding their way back to Scotland from there later on.

  Donalblane quite approved of this plan. He had had quite enough ofSouth America to last him for the rest of his life, and, now that hehad left, it was quite clear in his mind as to never returning.

  But of North America he knew nothing, and he was eager to learn.

  "Nae doot there'll be Indians there like those at Darien," he said toMr. Paterson, "and we'll be going to see them. Have they kings, too?"

  An amused look lightened Mr. Paterson's face for the moment as hereplied--

  "There are Indians, of course, in the country, very many tribes ofthem, and we may see some of them at New York, but we will not haveanything to do with them. We are of no account now," he went on sadly."We shall be little better than beggars when we reach New York, andshall have to trust to the kindness of our countrymen there to affordus the help we need. Ah, Donald, Donald! it is a sore thing to fail--asore, sore thing!" and he turned away to hide the emotion that masteredhim.

  Donalblane was touched to the heart, and in his passion of loyal lovewould not have hesitated to give his very life if thereby the fortunesof his hero could have been retrieved. But no sacrifice could savethem now. The great scheme that was to have been a blessing to theworld and to make Scotland mighty among the nations had failed utterly.

  Creeping cautiously along the coast, the two ships made their slow waynorthward, and, after passing through many a peril, at length reachedNew York, with the rotten rigging dropping from the masts, the pumpsgoing steadily to keep the leaky hulks afloat, and scarce two days'scant supply of food and water. With inexpressible joy the weariedvoyagers hastened to land, Donalblane of course accompanying Mr.Paterson.

  Although for a quarter of a century in possession of the British, NewYork was still for the most part a Dutch town, and the keen-eyed Scotchboy saw much that was novel and interesting in the quaint ways of thepeople and the odd appearance of the houses. He was quick to noticethe aspect of comfort and neatness that marked the place, and made sopleasing a contrast to the squalor and misery of the settlement atDarien.

  "Oh, but it's verra bonnie here!" he said to Mr. Paterson as, strollingthrough the streets in the cool of the evening, he saw the prosperousburghers with their plump wives and rosy children sitting out at thefront of their houses, so evidently enjoying life in their simple,sober way.

  "Do you think you'd like to stay here, then?" Mr. Paterson asked, witha kindly twinkle in his eye. "I dare say it could be managed. One ofthese well-to-do merchants might be glad to take you as an apprentice."

  Donald smiled and shook his head. There was indeed somethingattractive in the idea, but he did not feel free to entertain it.

  "Wad ye be thinkin' of staying yer ain sel'?" he inquired in turn.

  "Oh, no, Donald," replied Mr. Paterson with a deep sigh. "I mustreturn to Scotland to give an account of my stewardship."

  "Then if ye're going back, I'm going wi' ye," responded the lad in atone of absolute decision; and Mr. Paterson, patting him affectionatelyon the shoulder, said in a voice whose unwonted tremor showed howstrongly he felt--

  "You're a good boy, Donald, leal and true, and I believe that in theprovidence of God you will come to greatness yet."

  The survivors of the unfortunate Darien expedition were so kindlytreated at New York that quite a number of them were glad to settlepermanently in the prosperous colony; but Mr. Paterson impatientlyawaited the opportunity to get back to Scotland.

  During the delay Donalblane had an adventure that caused him to retaina vivid remembrance of the place for the remainder of his life. Hisrestless, inquiring spirit kept him constantly on the move, and onefine day he had roamed away up toward the north end of the island, andso overstayed his time that night had fallen ere he reached theoutskirts of the city.

  There were no street lights in those days, and, save where a friendlygleam came from the window or open door of a house, the streets weredark as pitch; hence there were many good chances for highwaymen topractise their evil profession, which they were not slow to seize upon.

  Donalblane had just got well into the city, when, as he passed througha dark, narrow street, he heard a cry for help, followed by the soundsof a violent struggle. At once the impulse to render aid tookpossession of him, and he darted in the direction whence the soundscame, grasping tightly his pistol, which he always carried with him. Ashort run brought him to where three persons were struggling together,one crying out for help, while the other two strove to smother hiscries and knock him senseless with their bludgeons.

  "Hi, there, ye scoondrels!" shouted Donalblane. "Hands off, or I'llshoot ye!"

  As the words left his lips, one of the highwaymen got in so brutal ablow that his victim fell limply to the ground; but the next instantthe report of the pistol rang out, and its bullet buried itself in theruffian's shoulder.

  Completely taken by surprise--for neither of them had been aware of theboy's swift approach--the rascals were so panic-stricken that they tookto their heels and disappeared around the corner, leaving Donalblanewith the seemingly lifeless form.

  "The puir man, they've killed him, nae doot," he murmured sadly, as hebent over the prostrate figure to feel if there were any signs of lifeleft.

  He was thus engaged when a door near by opened, and out sprang a coupleof men, who rushed upon him and grasped him roughly, exclaiming--

  "Ah--ah! now we've caught you red-handed! You'll swing high for this,you villain!"

  "Hoot, man, ye're quite wrong!" retorted Donalblane hotly. "I'm no'the villain. I ran to help this man. 'Twas the robbers that killedhim."

  But they refused to believe him, and others coming up, the poor boy waslike to have been roughly handled, when a grey-haired man, who spokewith authority, commanded that he be brought to his house forexamination. When this had been done, and the men realised what a merelad he was, and what a frank, honest countenance he possessed, the tideof feeling at once began to turn.

  "I am greatly disposed to believe the boy," said the elderly man afterhe had heard Donalblane's story. "But we must keep him in ward untilwe can find this Mr. Paterson of whom he speaks."

  So Donalblane was securely locked up until the morning, when he notonly had the joy of being vouched for by Mr. Paterson, and honourablyreleased, but the relief of learning that the highwaymen's victim hadbeen only stunned, not killed, and would soon recover from his injuries.

  He proved to be a prosperous merchant, who felt profoundly grateful forthe timely service, and, as it chanced, had a vessel sailing forEngland in a short time. On learning of their desire to cross theocean, he at once placed the cabin of the vessel at the disposal of Mr.Paterson and Donalblane, adding to this kindness a substantial advanceof money, which the former might repay at his convenience.

  Thus the way home was providentially opened up, and in far greatercomfort than they had set out for the New World, the two friendsreturned to Scotland. Here Donalblane was received with characteristiccoolness by his uncle, who felt very sore over the loss of his fivehundred pounds; and Mr. Paterson had to bear the undeserved reproachesof those who had lost n
ot merely money, but relatives, in theunfortunate enterprise.

  Yet there were far brighter days in store for both. Mr. Patersoncleared himself of all blame for the catastrophe, and filled theremaining years of his life with honourable work, while Donalblane,sobered by his experience, devoted himself to his uncle's business withsuch ardour and intelligence that ere long he came to be his right-handman.

  The step from that to a partnership was an easy and natural one, and,combining in a rare degree daring enterprise with far-sighted caution,Donalblane of Darien became in time one of the merchant princes ofScotland, winning, through the right use of his wealth and influence,high honour among his fellow-men, and the favour of Divine Providence.

  THE END.

  _Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, London & Bungay._