CHAPTER VII.
THE FOUNDING OF THE CITY OF DARIEN.
Whether the buccaneers went off for reinforcements, or simply withdrew sadder and wiser, if not better, men, cannot be said. They certainly disappeared before sunset, and no more was ever seen of them. For once at least the blood-stained Brethren of the Coast had met more than their match, and been foiled in their villainous work.
Having repaired the damage done to the spars and rigging, the Bonnie Scotland continued her course, and on the first day of November came in sight of the long-desired Golden Island—the goal of their hopes, the end of their weary voyage.
Wonderfully refreshing was the sight to the delighted eyes of the expedition, sick of the monotonous sea. Clothed with rich green sward, from which rose lofty trees laden with fruit, and surrounded by still waters of crystalline purity, this island stood forth like a beautiful specimen of the vast regions beyond, which it was hoped were some day to become a province of Scotland.
Donalblane's freckled face glowed with joy. "Eh, but it's bonnie—it's verra bonnie!" he exclaimed, grasping Mr. Sutherland's arm. "There's naethin' like that in Scotland."
"No, indeed, Donald," responded Mr. Sutherland, smiling at the boy's enthusiasm. "It's very different from Scotland, and far more beautiful; and if its fulfilment only equals its promise we shall have done well to come here."
By a clever bit of strategy Donalblane managed to get into the first boat that left the ship, and, curled up in the bow, waited until they touched ground, when he sprang out, recking naught of wet feet so long as he was really the first one of the expedition to set foot on the New World.
"Hurrah!" he shouted, waving his cap as he raced up the beach. "Come along and see the land!"
There were plenty to follow his example, and before long the little island which lay at the mouth of the Golden River had been pretty well explored.