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."
CHAPTER VI.
A BRUSH WITH BUCCANEERS.
There was no lack of arms on board the Bonnie Scotland, but they were curiously assorted, and by no means all of the best quality. Muskets and pistols, claymores and short swords, battle-axes and boarding-pikes, they were all hurriedly got out on deck, and each man chose the weapon he thought he could handle to the best advantage.
Donalblane, whose Highland spirit rather rejoiced at the prospect of a fight, snatched up a sword, which he hung at his belt in addition to his own pair of pistols.
"Can we beat the buccaneers, do you think?" he asked, looking up eagerly into the grave face of Mr. Sutherland, whose one thought was for his wife and child.
Mr. Sutherland glanced over the confused crowd of agitated men, many of whom were evidently in a state of unmanly terror, and there was an undertone of contempt in his voice as he replied—