ACROSS THE ATLANTIC.
Running as one runs whose life is at stake, Donalblane looked hither
and thither for some break in the cliffs that would give him a chance
to climb out of his fell pursuers' reach. At last, with a thrill of
joy, his eye perceived one, and, summoning all his energies for a
supreme effort, he darted thither.
The ravening swine were gaining upon him at a rate which meant his soon
being overtaken, and if he should stumble his fate was certain.
[Illustration: "THE RAVENING SWINE WERE GAINING UPON HIM."]
But the sure-footed faculty of the Highlander stood him in good stead.
He neither slipped nor tripped, and kept steadily on, until well-nigh
spent he won his race for life by so scanty a margin that the baffled
boar drove hard against the friendly rock up which his intended victim
had sprung to safety.
It was little more than a ledge which afforded Donalblane such timely
sanctuary, and it did not lead far; but, about twenty feet from the
ground, he found a sort of niche wherein he could dispose his exhausted
body with some degree of comfort.
"Eh, man, but I'm well-nigh dead!" he panted, as he stretched out on
the moss-covered rock. "Anither ten yards and he'd have had his tusks
into me. Ah, weel, he'll no' get anither chance, though I stay here a'
nicht!"
As the boar was grunting and gnashing, and his squealing family were
evidently determined to invest the place, Donalblane proceeded to
settle down as comfortably as he could.
Happily the moss lay thick on the rock, and really made quite a soft
couch. It was a fine, warm night, and if he had only had food and
drink he would not have greatly minded. But the pangs of hunger, and
especially of thirst, took possession of him, and he had a wretched
time of it as the long hours dragged slowly by. Some time during the
night the pigs disappeared, and when day dawned the coast was clear.
Feeling very stiff and sore and out of sorts, Donalblane clambered down
into the valley, and set off to find his ship. By a lucky chance,
after a couple of hours' vain wandering, he came upon a couple of
natives laden with oranges evidently intended for market.
They, of course, could not understand his words, but by vigorous
pantomime he got into their heads the two facts, that he wanted some of
their oranges, and to be shown the way to the harbour.
For a bit of silver they filled his hands with the fruit, which the
starving boy found very refreshing if not quite satisfying; and then,
by keeping them company, he came in due time to where the welcome sight
of the _Bonnie Scotland_ gladdened his eyes. On his return to the ship
he found his friends in great concern about him, and Mr. Sutherland
actually organising a party to go in search of him.
They were considerably amused at his story, and thereafter he had to
endure many a joke in regard to his supposed fondness for pork.
Leaving the lovely islands with good stores of fruit, fresh provisions,
and water, the _Bonnie Scotland_ pursued her way westward through storm
and {50} calm until the drawing near of the New World was announced by
tropical things that came out to meet her on the bosom of the deep.
Thenceforward every eye scanned eagerly the horizon, and Donalblane
spent most of his time high up the mainmast, it being his ambition to
be the first among the passengers to sight the land. Mr. Paterson,
whose kindly interest in the boy had increased during the voyage,
promised him a golden guinea if he did sight land first, and this of
course intensified his desire.
His patience was sorely tried, for when the ship reached the dreaded
Sargasso Sea her onward progress was checked for many a weary day by
the provoking seaweed which held her fast.
"I'm afraid you'll not soon win your guinea, Donald," said Mr.
Sutherland, after they had been apparently motionless for several days.
"We're bound to stay where we are until a strong wind is good enough to
spring up and help us out."
But the wind seemed in no hurry to come, and the gulf-weed kept them
prisoners until at last something in the nature of a hurricane struck
the _Bonnie Scotland_, and she scudded helplessly before it under bare
poles for a whole day, her passengers' impatience to sight land being
for the time replaced by a lively fear of foundering.
In spite of being so poor a craft, however, the _Bonnie Scotland_
braved out the peril, and the following morning Donalblane, who had
taken to the mast as soon as he had swallowed his breakfast, made the
hearts of all on deck thrill with joy by the cry of--
"The land! the land! I can see it! Look! Look!"
An instant later the look-out at the bow confirmed him by shouting--
"Land ho! on the weather bow!" and the ship-wearied folk forgot for the
moment their mutual animosities which had abounded during the long
voyage, and rejoiced together that the end of their trials was at hand.
"Here's your guinea, my lad," said Mr. Paterson, as he handed
Donalblane a bright new coin. "You've earned it well, and I hope that
good fortune may always befall you."
As Donalblane thanked his kind friend he vowed to himself that that
beautiful gold piece should not be hastily spent, but that he would
keep it as long as possible in memory of the giver, and the reason for
the gift.
It was one of the West India Islands they were approaching, and as they
passed within half-a-league its wealth of tropical vegetation presented
so pleasing a picture that the passengers besought the captain to make
a landing in one of the tempting coves, so that they might have a run
on shore, and probably get some fruit. But he was a surly fellow, and
refused the request with an oath, saying that he was sick of the whole
lot of them, and wanted to be rid of them with as little delay as
possible.
So the _Bonnie Scotland_ kept on her course, leaving the lovely islands
astern, and out of sight as she passed into the wide expanse of the
Caribbean Sea.
Coarse and brutal as he was, her captain understood navigation, and
knew how to get the best out of the old hulk of which he had command.
Now, as the end of the voyage drew near, and the seas seemed kind, he
cracked on all the sail the ship would carry, greatly to the delight of
Donalblane, who loved to have the vessel plunging along at full speed.
More than half the breadth of the sea had been traversed when the
look-out one morning shouted--
"Sail ho! Sail ho!"
"Where away?" roared the captain from the poop.
"Right abeam, and coming towards us," was the response after a moment's
hesitation.
At once there was much excitement on board. The members of the
expedition took it for granted that this was one of the other ships
from which they had long parted company, and began to speculate which
one it was, and whether it would overtake them.
"I was hoping ours would be the first vessel to reach Darien," said Mr.
Sutherland to Donalblane. "It would be something to boast of
considering what a poor thing she is. I wonder which one of the others
this is?"
"Ye canna tell so far away," responded Donalblane. "Maybe it winna
catch us. We're sailing fine now."
The _Bonnie Scotland_ certainly was doing wonders, but in spite of
every inch of canvas her sticks could carry being spread, the other
ship gained steadily, and the captain's grim countenance grew darker
and darker.
Mr. Paterson's fine features also became perturbed, although he kept
his own counsel, and those who noticed supposed he was simply anxious
that the _Bonnie Scotland_ should win the race to Darien.
As the afternoon advanced the pursuing vessel, which seemed to be
sailing two knots to the other's one, came fully into view, and
everybody on board saw that it not only was not one of the five which
had set out from Leith, but that it bore a strange look which somehow
seemed to bode no good.
They were not long left in uncertainty. "Yon's one of they
buccaneers," growled the captain; "and if ye're going to fight him off
ye'd better be gettin' ready."
At once the ship was filled with alarm and confusion, women weeping,
children wailing, men threatening. The very name of buccaneer sent a
chill of terror to every heart, and if the blood-stained butchers of
the sea had ranged alongside at that moment, the _Bonnie Scotland_
would have proved an easy prey. But there was one man on board equal
to the emergency. William Paterson had been shamefully treated by his
associates, his advice flouted, his authority denied, his confidence
betrayed. Now he rose superior to them all. He alone was calm amid
the pitiful panic, and the first to respond to his call for concerted
action were Mr. Sutherland and Donalblane.
"We must resist to the death," were his earnest words, steadily spoken.
"There can be no question of surrender. The buccaneers do not know the
meaning of mercy."