CHAPTER XI.
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.
"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.