There was much talking that night ere the rushlights were blown out, and I learned that our destination was to be the colony taken from the Dutch long before and renamed New York, where land might be had for the taking. Indeed, I learned for the first time that Alec Gordon had not gone into this venture blindly, but had procured letters to the folk there from others of the faith in Holland, so that we were sure of a goodly welcome.
There was one matter that troubled me greatly that night, and kept sleep from me for a long time. This was that while we were loading sheep aboard that day I had seen a face among Master Herries' crew, and it was the face of Gib o' Clarclach, as he called himself. I wondered at his daring to return in the "Lass," knowing her loading and her errand, and for a moment I was tempted to have a word with Herries himself on the matter. Howbeit, I decided against it and thereupon fell off to sleep, concluding that the man had sufficient punishment already and that to pursue him for a past fault would be no worthy end. But in days to come I repented me much of this, as you shall see.
In the morning we made a hasty breakfast together, and assembled in the big room for a last prayer. It was like to be morning-long, and after taking due part for an hour I slipped quietly through the door; not out of disrespect, but out of sheer weariness, for Alec Gordon was famed for his long-windedness. Master Herries and his men were waiting aboard the "Lass," but as I watched the ship from the bench outside the inn, I was aware of a man calling my name and pointing.
Turning, I saw that he was directing me to the hillsides, and there in the gleam of the sunlight I saw a dozen men riding breakneck toward the port.
"Best get auld Alec out," suggested the fisherman, and the look of him told me there was more afoot than I knew. So, taking my courage in hand, I slipped in through the side door again and so up behind the elder, in the shadow of the big settle. Waiting till he had finished a drawn-out phrase, I leaned toward his ear.
"Alec Gordon, there be men riding hard down the moors."
It seemed to me that his face changed quickly, but not his voice, for he continued quietly enough.
"Tam Graham, lead your flock to the boats. Do you follow him, Fergus, and all of you make what haste is possible." With that he fell into the border tongue as they all looked up in amazement. "Scramble oot, freends!" he cried hastily. "The kye are in the corn!"
Now well enough I knew that for the old alarm-cry of the men of Cameron, nor was I the only one. There was a single deep murmur, and the Grahams poured forth into the street. After them came the rest of us, I falling in at Ruth's side behind my father, and we hastened down to the boats. I failed utterly to see what danger there could be, and cast back an eye at the riders. They were still a quarter-mile away, but coming on furiously.
In less time than it takes to tell, we were into the small boats and rowing out to the ship. As I scrambled up the side I could hear the clatter of hoofs on the cobbles, but above us there was a creak of ropes and a flutter of canvas. Then there came shouts from shore, but we could not hear the words and paid no heed.