THE MIDNIGHT ATTACK.
Donalblane took these difficulties and disasters deeply to heart, not
so much on his own account, for, like all brave-spirited boys, he had
no doubt that _he_ would pull through all right somehow, but because of
his hero, Mr. Paterson, who had won the affection and loyalty of his
young heart. He considered him the noblest of men, and more than once
had got into trouble by hotly resenting the undeserved slurs and sneers
that were too freely cast upon him.
"Ye dinna ken what ye're saying, ye sneakin' loon!" he had once
retorted to a lanky youth who was meanly making charges against Mr.
Paterson that were no less false than frivolous; and when the other
responded with a blow, Donalblane, taking no account of the disparity
in size and age, flung himself at him so fiercely and used his fists to
such 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 on
another occasion; but this time, his antagonist being a powerful man,
Donalblane did not fare so well--in fact, he got a bad thrashing; but
as he nursed his bruises he found comfort in the conviction that they
were 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 her
little boy, and, broken in heart and spirit, Mr. Sutherland not long
after joined them in the grave, so that Donalblane felt he had only one
friend left, for somehow he had not taken kindly to any of the other
men. He therefore attached himself closely to Mr. Paterson, and thus
had the opportunity of rendering him a supremely important service.
Mr. Paterson had invited him to share his hut--a mark of esteem that
made him very pleased and proud, as may be imagined. They had thus
lived together for a fortnight, Mr. Paterson devoting himself to the
trying difficulties that surrounded him, while Donalblane spent his
time in fishing and hunting, so that they might always be supplied with
food. One day Donald chanced to overhear a conversation between two of
the worst characters in the colony, which made it clear that they had
designs upon Mr. Paterson's life. He at once made known his
suspicions, but Mr. Paterson treated the matter lightly.
[Illustration: "CHANCED TO OVERHEAR A CONVERSATION WHICH MADE IT CLEAR
THAT 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. They
would be well pleased, no doubt, to have me out of the way, but they'd
never have the courage to do what you fear."
This made Donalblane feel a little easier in his mind; nevertheless, he
resolved to keep a watch upon the rascals, and to be alert for any
danger that might threaten.
"They'll never do Mr. Paterson any harm if I can help it," he said to
himself, and certainly no Scottish chieftain ever had a more loving or
loyal clansman than he.
One stormy night when the wind blew and the rain fell as though they
had combined in an attack upon the hut, which was none too strong or
tight, Donalblane felt restless and wakeful.
Mr. Paterson, wearied with toil and trial, was sleeping soundly, but
his companion tossed about in his hammock with wide-open eyes.
Presently his quick ear caught a sound that he did not think was caused
by the storm, but by some person or creature trying to effect an
entrance into the hut.
"What can that be?" he asked himself as he sat up in his hammock, and
strained both eyes and ears to discover something in the surrounding
gloom.
The suspicious sound continued, and Donalblane was just about to waken
Mr. Paterson, whose hammock swung on the other side of the hut, when
the door gave way, and two men rushed in with manifest evil intent.
Had Donalblane not been awake at the moment, the villains might have
had easy work; but he was not only awake, but alert, and with a
quickness 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 the
foremost man, grasping him about the knees. Down went the scoundrel on
his face, and the other was so close behind that he tripped and fell
also, the two getting tangled up together and giving vent to fearful
words, while Donalblane, somewhat bruised from the encounter, crawled
away, and darted to the side of Mr. Paterson, who was now fully awake.
They had nothing in their hands wherewith to defend themselves, and the
would-be assassins were no doubt well armed; but neither of them had
any thought of flight. Not so with the intruders. Realising that
their foul plot had failed of its purpose, thanks to Donalblane's
vigilance, their one idea was to get away, and the fellow that entered
last did succeed in regaining his feet and rushing out into the
darkness; but the other had been half stunned by his head coming into
contact with a heavy chest, and ere he could escape Mr. Paterson had
thrown himself upon him and pinned him to the ground.
"A light, Donald--quick, a light!" he called, as he put his whole
weight on the struggling form.
Donalblane hastened to obey, and the lighting up of the hut revealed
the fact that Mr. Paterson's prisoner was one of the very men
Donalblane had overheard conspiring against him. When they had bound
the wretch securely, Donalblane could not resist saying, in a tone of
exultation--
"Noo, sir, didn't I tell ye? and yet ye wadna listen to me. He's ane
o' them, and I can point ye out the other one any day."
Mr. Paterson, who had already recovered his composure as completely as
if nothing had happened, took both the boy's hands in his own, and
shook them warmly as he replied, with a look full of gratitude and
love--
"You were right, Donald, and it was wrong to make light of your
warning. God be thanked that you were able to baulk the scoundrels
to-night, for if you had not been awake at the moment, I and perhaps
you also would be no longer alive. But evidently it is not the will of
Providence that we should die yet. Let us kneel and give thanks to God
for our deliverance."
And so with the foiled assassin scowling and cursing them as he
strained at his bonds, the two knelt down, while Mr. Paterson poured
forth in prayer his gratitude to God for their merciful deliverance.
There was no more sleep for either of them that night. In the morning
Mr. 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 were
many who blamed him for the failure of their high hopes, and others who
were jealous of his fine qualities and resented his authority, none
were so base as to desire his death; and if it had not been for his
earnest entreaty, the prisoner would have been condemned to be shot
that very day as a terrible example. But Mr. Paterson magnanimously
interceded, with the result that the prisoner and his confederate, if
he should be found, were banished from the colony, on pain of death if
they 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 of
men and supplies should follow the first little fleet after an interval
of some months, and these were now long overdue; yet although the high
hill above the settlement was never without watchers, who eagerly
scanned the face of the waters, no sign of sail appeared.
As a matter of fact, only one ship had been dispatched, and this one
unfortunately foundered in mid-ocean. Meanwhile, deaths were taking
place daily, and those who managed to keep alive were little more than
haggard, sickly skeletons.
No wonder that in spite of Mr. Paterson's earnest protest they at last
determined to depart from the fatal spot, which, instead of proving a
paradise, had been the grave of all their high hopes and of so many of
their companions. Mr. Paterson, still hopeful of the success of the
great scheme, pleaded with them not to abandon it. He claimed that to
do so would be to be false to the trust placed in them by their
countrymen.
But they would not listen to him. Their first duty, they retorted, was
to themselves. They must save their own lives. To remain was to die.
Accordingly, having provisioned the ships as best they could, they
prepared to depart. For the last time they gathered in the rude
church, while the sole surviving minister prayed for the Divine
blessing and protection. It was a sad congregation, and Donalblane,
whose loyal heart had sympathised to the full with Mr. Paterson's
endeavour to stay the retreat, felt heavier of heart than he had ever
done in his life before. Right willingly would he have remained behind
with Mr. Paterson if any good could have been gained thereby. But if
all the others departed, they must needs go too; and after the mournful
service ended, the boats bore them to the ships, Mr. Paterson being the
very last to leave the shore, which none of them would ever set foot
upon again.