A RESCUE AND A RETREAT.
Well was it for both Donalblane and the child that all those on board
the _Bonnie Scotland_ did not lose their heads so completely as the
young fellow whose foolish action had caused the trouble.
Among the first to take in the situation was William Paterson, and
instinctively he looked about him for something to throw over after the
brave boy which might serve to buoy him up until help reached him. As
it happened, some one had brought on deck an empty wooden chest to
serve for a seat.
"The very thing!" exclaimed Mr. Paterson when his eye fell upon it,
and, without pausing to ask permission, he lifted it up and flung it
over the bulwarks.
It fell not far from where Donald struck the water, and, although he
did not see it at first, it presently attracted his attention.
"Eh! what's that?" he asked himself, as the black thing bobbed up and
down on the waves. For a moment he feared it might be the back of a
shark coming to the attack, but on a second look fear gave way to joy.
"It's a box!" he cried, "and it will keep us up, if I can only get to
it."
The child lay like a log, whimpering a little when the water splashed
in his face; and it seemed to demand all Donald's strength just to keep
from sinking, so that he did not see how he was to reach the chest,
which was at least twenty yards distant.
"Wae's me!" he groaned, "but I'm near spent, and if I canna lay hold of
that box, I maun droon."
Happily the wind was blowing towards him, and, although he could not
make much progress against it, the chest was helped by it in his
direction, so that, just when he thought he could keep up no longer, it
bobbed within his reach, and, with a sigh of unutterable relief, he
laid hold of it.
"Noo then, my bairnie, just get atop o' that," he said cheeringly, as
he placed the child upon the chest, and held him there that he might
not fall off.
The chest accepted the responsibility and bore it bravely, taking all
the strain off Donald's tired arms, and enabling him to recover his
strength and wind in a measure. Of course it was no easy matter to
keep the little one in place with the waves so full of motion, but it
was ever so much less strain than it had been before, and the sturdy
boy could have maintained the struggle a little longer still, when the
welcome rattle of oars and the encouraging shouts of men told him that
rescue was near.
The boat came dashing up under the strenuous strokes of four brawny
oarsmen, and in her bow stood William Paterson, his eager glance bent
upon the two imperilled ones, and his arms outstretched ready to grasp
them.
"God bless you, my noble boy!" he exclaimed, as, after tenderly lifting
the child into the boat, he caught Donald under the arms to help him
in. "You've taught us a lesson in heroism this day."
Donald sat down in the bow so utterly exhausted that he was hardly
conscious of Mr. Paterson's warm words, nor of the hearty praise of the
men, but he had an exquisite sense of relief and of having become a
person of importance.
The first to greet him on the deck of the vessel were the parents of
the child, and Mrs. Sutherland turned from hugging her rescued darling
to throw her arms around Donald's neck and kiss him again and again,
greatly to the bashful boy's embarrassment, while her husband was
thumping him on the back, and exclaiming huskily, "How can I ever repay
you for saving my child's life?"
It was really very trying to Donald to be the subject of such
demonstration, and he was quite glad to get away from the grateful
parents and the applauding crowd to his own cabin to put on some dry
clothes. But when the first excitement subsided and he found that he
had not only won the respect of his shipmates, but also the warm
friendship of the Sutherlands, who were very fine people, he felt that
the game was well worth the candle, and that he was splendidly repaid
for the risk he had taken.
The first part of the long voyage across the great Atlantic Ocean was
devoid of special incident. The ships presently scattered, so that
each was alone in the vast expanse; and the days followed one another
monotonously enough until the _Bonnie Scotland_ sighted the Azores
Islands, and, to the delight of all on board, it was announced that a
call at Fayal would be made in order to replenish the supply of water.
By this time Donalblane had got a pretty good understanding of all his
fellow-voyagers. His likes and dislikes were clearly defined, and,
young as he was, his natural shrewdness told him that there were only
too many in the company it would have been far better to have left at
home.
The Sutherlands were his special friends. He had won their hearts
completely, and he took great delight in the company of their little
son Walter, who loved him as though he fully understood that he owed
him his life.
At Fayal the four of them went ashore together, and Donalblane thought
he had never before realised how pleasant it was to be on the solid
ground as after these weeks of tossing about in an overcrowded ship.
"Eh, but this is bonnie!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, as his big
eyes roamed over the novel and picturesque landscape. "I'd like well
if this were Darien, and we need gang no farther."
Mr. Sutherland smiled at the boy's frankness. "You've evidently had
enough of the _Bonnie Scotland_, Donald," he said. "So, too, have I.
I'd be right glad to be rid both of the ship and many of her company.
But we're not half-way to Darien yet."
The striking combination of rugged grandeur with tropical beauty which
the Azores presented delighted Donald, and during their stay he spent
the whole day ashore exploring the islands, usually in company with Mr.
Sutherland. They revelled in the oranges and other fruit that were to
be had almost for the asking, and Donald used to amuse Mr. Sutherland
exceedingly by his lively effort to make himself understood by the
inhabitants, who were chiefly Portuguese.
One adventure befell him that might have had a serious result. He had
gone off wandering on his own account, and lost his way amidst the
ravines which pierce the mountains in every direction, and lead one
into another in a puzzling fashion. The harder he strove to extricate
himself from the maze, the deeper he got into it, until at last, a
little before sundown, he found himself in a regular _cul-de-sac_, from
which there appeared to be no exit save by climbing the precipitous
cliffs which shut him in, and it would soon be too dark to attempt
that. "Losh me!" he sighed ruefully, "but I'm fair trapped, and what
shall I do for the nicht?"
The question was more easily asked than answered. Of course to a son
of the Highlands the spending of a night in the open was not a serious
matter, so far as exposure was concerned; but how about danger from
wild animals? This was what concerned Donalblane, and he was glad that
he had put a pistol in his belt before leaving the ship. Wearied and
perplexed, he had thrown himself down on the sward, when there suddenly
hove in sight a big boar leading a small band of sows and piglings. He
was a tusker of most forbidding appearance, and the instant his wicked
little eyes fell upon Donalblane he bristled up and began gnashing his
tusks ominously.
The boy sprang to his feet and drew his pistol, while he looked
anxiously about him for a way of escape. "Save us a'!" he cried.
"What a fearsome brute! He means ill to me, I'm thinking."
There seemed nothing for it but to stand firm and trust to his pistol.
So, after a swift glance to make sure that the priming was in its
place, he braced himself for the attack.
The boar did not waste much time. Having satisfied himself that this
intruder upon his domain deserved no mercy, he charged fiercely at him,
the foam flying from his gleaming tusks, and the thick bristles
standing out on his mighty front.
Donalblane wisely waited until the fierce creature was within a few
yards of him, and then fired, taking aim at the very centre of the
forehead. At the report of the pistol the boar pitched forward,
driving his snout into the ground, so great was his impetus, and
Donalblane, thinking him dead, shouted triumphantly, "Noo, ye fool!
will ye be trying to scare folk who meant ye no harm?" But his words
had hardly left his lips when the boar, which had been only stunned,
his tough, wrinkled hide proving an effectual shield, got upon his feet
again and renewed the charge so furiously that Donalblane barely saved
himself by a sudden spring aside. Baffled for the moment, the maddened
brute swiftly swung round for a fresh onset, and Donalblane was fain to
flee towards the cliffs, followed by the boar and his whole family,
grunting and squealing.
There was no boy in Leith could out-foot him, and he dashed away at
such a speed as gave him a good lead. But where was he to go, in order
to escape the relentless monster that sought to rend him? And if it
came to a question of endurance, the boar would assuredly run him down
in the end.