OFF TO DARIEN.
Five ships, not one of them really fit for the long and perilous
voyage, composed the expedition, and they looked gay enough as,
bedecked with flags and crowded with excited people, they swung at
their moorings ready for departure.
The heart of Scotland beat high with hope. It was her first attempt at
founding a colony, although her sons had done so much to help in the
founding of English colonies, and now all the glory and the gold to be
won in the new world would be hers, and hers alone: no other nation
should have any share in them.
Donalblane felt something of this patriotic enthusiasm stirring his
young heart. He was not wholly selfish in his desire to be a member of
the expedition. Of course, his head was full of wild dreams of what
wonders he would see, and the great things he would do in his own
interest. But above it all rose a national pride that did him credit.
He was a Scot to the backbone; and whether he realised all his own
expectations or not he was passionately eager that the great scheme
itself should be accomplished, and that his country should take a proud
place among the nations.
His uncle, having bidden him good-bye and God-speed, had returned to
the quay, and Donalblane, leaning over the bulwarks, was waiting
somewhat impatiently for the anchor to be hoisted and the sails set,
when a hand was laid gently on his shoulder, and a deep voice said in a
kindly tone, "Beginning to feel a little homesick already, lad?"
Looking up quickly, Donald found beside him the master-spirit of the
enterprise, William Paterson, to whom he had been once introduced in
his uncle's office.
"Na, na, sir!" was his prompt, respectful reply; "I'm wearying to be
off. Will the ships be ganging soon, sir?" and he fixed his big grey
eyes upon Mr. Paterson's face.
"Oh! is that the way the wind lies?" was the response, as the great man
smiled approvingly at the boy, for he was much pleased with his spirit.
"You are eager for adventure, eh? Well, my lad, you are likely to have
your fill of it." And his handsome countenance clouded as he spoke,
for the execution of his scheme had been marked by many disappointments
which boded no good for its ultimate success. By his frank, honest way
and earnest efforts to do what was best for the interests of the
expedition, not for the profit of those supplying the outfit, he had
aroused the hostility of many who had not hesitated to plot against
him, with the result that latterly he had been practically set aside,
and had been compelled to witness gross imposition and fraud which he
was powerless to prevent. No wonder, then, that his downcast face
presented a striking contrast to that of the enthusiastic boy as they
stood on the deck together; and, influenced by the other's contagious
confidence, he brightened a little before continuing. "We can hardly
fail to have adventures, for it is a new world we are going to, where
savages, and, worse than savages, the cruel, grasping Spaniards, are
already, and we shall have to reckon with them before we can succeed in
our scheme. But with the providence of God protecting us, we shall
succeed," and his voice took on a triumphant tone that revealed his
faith in the Divine approval of his project. "Be careful what friends
you make on board here," he added, once more laying his hand upon the
boy's shoulder. "There are many to be shunned, and remember that, for
your uncle's sake and your own, I shall always be glad to be of such
service to you as may be in my power." And ere Donald could get out
his thanks, Mr. Paterson hastened away to speak to one who had just
come on board.
The interview had been a short one, but it made a deep impression upon
Donald. That the great man of whom his uncle and the dominie always
spoke in such terms of admiration should address him so graciously,
touched the lad to the core, and from that moment he was ready to yield
to Mr. Paterson the same passionate devotion that the Highland clansmen
used to hold for their chieftain.
At last, amid fluttering of flags, booming of cannon, and solemn
offering of prayer, the ships weighed anchor and, with all sails set,
stood out to sea, the favouring breeze taking them in a few hours well
out of the sheltered Firth of Forth into the exposed expanse of the
North Sea.
They had not long been tumbling about amongst ever-troubled waters when
Donalblane, in common with very many of his shipmates on the _Bonnie
Scotland_, had a new experience. Hitherto his personal acquaintance
with the sea had been limited to short trips between Leith and
neighbouring ports, and now for the first time he was out of sight of
land and entirely at the mercy of wind and wave. An old salt would
have called the wind before which the ships of the expedition bowled
southward just "a fresh breeze," but Donalblane thought it a gale, and
the _Bonnie Scotland_ had not long been pitching and tossing in lively
fashion before something began to go wrong inside of him, making him
feel so uncomfortable that he was fain to leave the quarter-deck, where
he had been enjoying himself, and to seek a snug corner in which he
could curl up unnoticed. By the end of an hour he was completely
overcome, and if Mr. Paterson had happened along then with his
question, he certainly would not have received so prompt and resolute a
response. Not one day's illness had Donald known in the whole course
of his life, and this misery of sea-sickness made him as angry with
himself as was possible in his prostrate condition.
As the ships got down towards the English Channel they tumbled about
more than ever, until the poor boy began to think he was really going
to die, and heartily wished himself back upon solid ground. But once
they were out in the Atlantic matters improved. Fine, bright weather
succeeded, the vessels moved steadily along before a favouring wind,
and Donald was soon established on his sea-legs.
He now had a chance to become acquainted with some of his
fellow-passengers, the majority of whom had shared his sufferings.
They were certainly a very mixed company of men, women, and children.
Highlanders and lowlanders, peers and peasantry, grave ministers and
gay scapegraces, shaggy shepherds from the hills, and bronzed
sailor-men from the coast--a motley throng indeed, the members of which
Donald studied with keen interest, for he had a sociable nature, but
bore in mind the good advice given him by Mr. Paterson in regard to
making acquaintances.
As it fell out, his first friend was won in a decidedly dramatic
fashion. Among the occupants of the first cabin was a gentleman by
name Henry Sutherland, whose wife and child, a beautiful boy of four
years, accompanied him. Donald was greatly attracted by the child, and
anxious to make friends with him, but had no opportunity, until one day
a startling thing happened.
It was fine and warm, and the little fellow was playing happily about
the quarter-deck near his mother, when a sprig of the nobility, the
Hon. Hector Simpson, who had been sent out by his family in the hope of
improving his habits, sauntered along, and, moved by a spirit of
mischief, picked up the child, and held him over the bulwarks, saying
teasingly, "How would you like to go and play with the fishes?" The
mother screamed and started forward, and the child, terrified on his
own account, gave so sudden and violent a wrench as to free himself
from his tormentor's grasp and fall into the sea, leaving a portion of
his dress in the latter's hands. Appalled by the utterly unexpected
outcome of his foolish act, and unable to atone for it by springing
after the child, for he could not swim a stroke, the Hon. Hector joined
his shouts for help with the shrieks of the frenzied mother.
At that moment Donalblane was leaning over the bulwarks near by and
feeling very lonely. He longed for friendly companionship, but was
bashful about breaking the ice with any of those to whom he felt drawn,
and so far no one, save Mr. Paterson, who always had a pleasant smile
and kindly word for him, had taken any particular notice of him.
Now Donald was a strong, expert swimmer. He had dared the depths of
many a dark loch before he left his native mountains for the coast, and
at Leith he had always been one of the first to take a dip in the
spring, and one of the last to give it up in the autumn. Without a
question of fear, therefore, but thinking only of the pretty boy in
peril of death, he threw off his coat and leaped over the bulwarks into
the heaving waters. Happily the little one was still afloat when
Donald's powerful strokes brought him within reach.
"There now, dearie, I've got you all safe! Dinna fear; ye'll no'
droon. Keep still and ye'll be a' richt," panted Donald, as he put his
left arm about the terror-stricken child.
Whether the little fellow really understood or was paralysed by fright
he certainly obeyed. And well was it for them both that he did, for
having cleared the brine from his eyes and got a good look at the
_Bonnie Scotland_, Donald realised with a sinking of heart that many
minutes must elapse before they could be rescued. The ship had already
been brought up into the wind, and efforts were being made to lower a
boat; but in the meantime his helpless burden was becoming heavier and
heavier.