Donalblane of Darien

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.

It was indeed a lovely spot, but it did not afford the good harbour or the natural facilities for defence which were necessary for the permanent establishment of the expedition. Mr. Paterson, however, thought it best for the Bonnie Scotland to remain there until the other ships put in an appearance. This they did in the course of the next few weeks, one at a time straggling in, each with its own tale of storm and stress, of baffling winds and disheartening calms, but none of them having shared the Bonnie Scotland's experience with the buccaneers.

After all had been rested and refreshed, Mr. Paterson, who had well employed the interval of waiting by exploring the surrounding region, Donalblane being usually permitted to accompany him, announced that he had decided upon the site of the city whose foundations they were to lay, and under his directions the little fleet moved thither.

The spot was so admirably adapted for their purpose that it seemed as if it had been destined by nature. About a cannon-shot southward from the Golden Island a peninsula, having a deep harbour at its extremity, stretched out into the sea. The outer arm of the harbour was lofty and commanding, affording protection to the water within. The other arm was low, and well fitted for the construction of forts and other defences; while between the two lay a wide, calm, sheltered bay capable of containing all the fleets of Europe.

The shores of the bay were of bright yellow sand that suggested gold to the eager eyes of the new settlers; and the waters were so clear that full five fathoms deep you could see the shells and coral fragments as through the purest glass. In many places mangroves dropped into the pellucid water, their boughs laden with a strange kind of fruit, for they bore oysters that were good to eat. Beyond the golden beach rose stately palms interspersed with orange and other fruit trees, and here and there spread rich savannahs ready for homes to be built upon them.

It seemed an earthly paradise indeed, and Donalblane expressed the feelings of the rest when he exclaimed in his characteristic way —

"Here we've come and here we'll bide, for there can surely be no bonnier place on all the earth!"

Only one member of the entire expedition had any knowledge of the country. This was William Paterson, the founder of the expedition; and so at the outset all his counsel and directions were unquestioningly obeyed.

When, just before sunset, the ships came to anchor in the noble harbour, and with utmost haste the boats were filled and urged ashore, Mr. Paterson was the first to land. His first action was to fall on his knees and offer up fervent thanksgiving for their safe arrival. Each Scotsman as he landed followed his example, until the whole expedition formed one great congregation worshipping upon that shore which had never before heard the name of God.

Their prayer ended, they rose and embraced one another in the impulse of mutual congratulation. Every heart beat high with hope; and that night there was not a single member of the party who was troubled by the slightest doubt as to the success of their great undertaking.

They had arrived in the very best season of the year, it being the springtime of that climate, when Nature was at her best in every way, and they made haste to get out of their cramped quarters on shipboard and put up temporary huts and tents in the shade of the trees in which they could live until permanent homes were built.

Donalblane was immensely happy. He had no hut to build. He could sleep on the ship or ashore just according to his fancy, so he was a gentleman of leisure, and he thoroughly enjoyed himself exploring the wonderful New World.

By common consent the settlers took holiday at first. They hunted the wild boar in the depths of the forest; they fished in the neighbouring streams and surrounding seas; they threaded the woods, where almost every bough bore some kind of fruit with which they were glad to make acquaintance.

Then they turned their attention to work, and, after huts had been provided for all, a fort was built commanding the harbour, and threescore guns, taken from the ships, mounted upon its battlements. Their next proceeding was to cut a canal across the isthmus, thereby rendering their peninsula an island; and having named the fort St. Andrews, and the surrounding region Caledonia, they began to feel more at home.

While they were thus occupied, and everything seemed to be going on smoothly and prosperously, Mr. Paterson thought it well to make a journey into the interior in order to open up friendly relations with the natives, and by effecting treaties with them to secure a proper title to the land upon which the expedition had settled. He accordingly made up a party for this purpose.

It included Mr. Sutherland, and he was thoughtful enough to let Donalblane know of the project.

"Ay; but I'd like fine to be going with you," said the boy, his face full of eagerness. "Can ye no' tak me?"

"It's not for me to say, Donald," replied Mr. Sutherland kindly; "but suppose you have a word with Mr. Paterson? We're starting in the morning."

Donalblane needed no second hint. He set off at once in search of Mr. Paterson, and, happening to find him disengaged, promptly proffered his request.

"Can I gang wi' you to-morrow?" he said, fixing his big grey eyes upon him, his whole frame trembling with the eagerness that possessed him.

Mr. Paterson woke from the reverie in which he had been lost, and, regarding Donalblane with a half-puzzled, half-amused smile, asked —

"To-morrow? Where?"

"I dinna ken, sir," was the odd response. "But wherever ye're going yersel'. Away off yonder," he added, pointing inland, where, in the remote distance, a range of mountains, blue and vague, enclosed the horizon. Mr. Paterson now fully understood him.

"And why do you want to go with me, Donald? Are you not content here?" he inquired in the gentle, winning tone that was one of his many personal charms.

"Ay, to be sure," responded the boy heartily. "But you're ganging to see the Indians, and I'd like fine to see them too."

Mr. Paterson laughed at this frank confession of curiosity, and then was silent for a brief space while he seemed lost in thought.

Donalblane, thrilling with anxiety, kicked a hole in the turf as he waited.

"I think you may come with us, Donald," said Mr. Paterson presently, laying his hand upon the other's shoulder. "But you must be a very good boy, and do just what you are told."

"You may be sure I'll do that!" cried Donalblane, giving a jump of delight. "Mony thanks, sir, for your kindness."

Thus it was settled to Donalblane's satisfaction, but to the great envy of others who would have liked to be in his place.

Bright and early the following morning the party set forth. It comprised twelve of the Scots all fully armed, and half as many of natives whose friendship had been already secured; these latter serving in the double capacity of guides and bearers of the presents intended to be given to the Indian chieftains. They were all in high spirits, the hard work of founding St. Andrews having made a holiday very welcome, while the novelty and interest of the trip certainly promised to be sufficient to satisfy the most enterprising.

Mr. Sutherland kindly took Donalblane as his companion, and they trudged along together, their attention alert for everything in nature that was strange or beautiful. For the most part their route lay through shadowy forests, into whose dim recesses the hot rays of the sun never penetrated, with here and there a grassy glade that brought them into sunlight again. They travelled at a leisurely pace and in short stages, as they were not pressed for time, and Donalblane enjoyed every moment. He was as happy as a hummingbird.

CHAPTER VIII

A SUCCESSFUL EMBASSY

During his previous visit to the Darien region Mr. Paterson had gained some knowledge of the native language, and this now stood him and his companions in good stead, as it caused them to be received not only with kindness, but with honour, by the Indians when they met them.

It was towards the close of their second day's journey that the quick ear of Donalblane, who was in the lead with the guides, caught a sound that was different from anything he had hitherto heard.

"Eh! but is na that music?" he cried, turning to the nearest guide, who smiled assent, although in truth he did not understand the question. "I maun gang and tell Mr. Paterson;" and he raced back with the information.

Mr. Paterson was very pleased at the news, for he understood it to mean that the report of their expedition had preceded them, and that the Indians were coming to welcome them in their own way; and so it proved, for the music grew louder as they advanced, until, on entering one of the long forest aisles, they beheld a group of musicians playing upon reeds, accompanied by a chorus who joined in from time to time with a kind of musical humming.

Donalblane's eyes opened wide at this. He had never expected to find an orchestra and a choral society among savages, and he expressed his surprise to Mr. Sutherland, who smilingly replied —

"Don't be astonished at anything in this strange New World, my lad. It is as full of wonders as it is of perils."

When the Scotsmen had come up to them, the musicians changed their march into a curious kind of dance, which continued until they crossed a small savannah and drew near a lofty grove standing by itself, within whose recesses it was understood the king awaited his visitors.

Then the dancing ceased, the music resumed, and there issued from the grove a bevy of graceful girls, glittering with golden ornaments, and carrying garlands of flowers which they threw over the necks of Mr. Paterson and his companions, not neglecting Donalblane, who blushed to the roots of his sandy hair at this unlooked-for adornment.

Guided by them, the visitors at length were ushered into the presence of the King of Darien, and Donalblane caught his breath at the imposing sight. Seated upon a huge throne of mahogany logs, decked with Spanish crimson cloth, and wearing a great crown of gold, the dusky potentate – albeit his robes were only of some light cotton stuff, and big shining rings dangled from his ears and nose – looked every inch a king.

So royal indeed was his appearance that the Scotsmen, moved by a common impulse, not only bowed, but knelt before him, which mark of respect evidently impressed his Majesty very favourably. Standing about him were fine-looking men, whose stature was heightened by diadems of the gold plumage of the mocking-bird, out of which rose two long feathers from the scarlet macaw. They leaned upon gleaming spears, and were no doubt ready to execute the commands of their master for life or death.

Thanks to Mr. Paterson's acquaintance with the native language, there was no need of an interpreter, and he proceeded to explain the purpose of his visit.

"We are come," said he, "from the other side of the globe to greet you, O King! We are come as friends, not as enemies. We would take nothing from you without due payment. We offer to purchase from you sufficient land for our settlement, and we want not only your land, but your friendship. If you treat us kindly, if you deal with us honourably, we will help to make you and your people greater and richer, and we will also aid you against your enemies. We will be your allies; and if you are attacked, our guns and our swords will be at your service, for your cause will be ours. What say you, O King?" And without waiting for a response, the shrewd leader of the expedition proceeded to exhibit the presents of beads, trinkets, and scarlet cloth which he had brought.

The dignity of the monarch was not entirely proof against this tempting display. His dark eyes gleamed with eager desire, and it was by a manifest effort that he controlled the impulse to make a hasty descent from the throne in order to take the presents into his royal hands.

Suddenly the ceremony, which had been proceeding so auspiciously, was interrupted by an extraordinary disturbance that thoroughly startled every member of the visiting party save Mr. Paterson.

During the progress of the solemn function there had gathered in the trees overhead a curious congregation, to wit, a large troop of monkeys, whose curiosity had evidently been excited by what was going on below. They came in thousands, leaping from bough to bough, and from tree to tree, until they assembled right above the king and his visitors.

Here they remained tolerably quiet for awhile, until, just as his Majesty was about to reply to Mr. Paterson, the impudent intruders broke into a deafening chorus of chattering and screaming which made every other sound inaudible. Not only so, but, in utter fearlessness of human presence, they began a series of wild antics, which culminated in their forming living chains, one holding on to the other's tail, and then they let themselves down from the lofty trees until they were actually within reach of the people below.

One of these animated chains swung to and fro so near to Donalblane that he thought the grinning, grasping creatures meant to attack him, and he drew his cutlass to strike at them, when happily Mr. Paterson divined his intention, and with a quick movement caught his arm.

"Let them alone, my lad," he said almost sternly. "They will do you no harm. They are sacred here. Be careful."

It was well he had been so quick, for already some of the stalwart attendants of the king had observed Donalblane, and were lifting their long spears menacingly.

Donalblane's weapon went back into its sheath; and, bracing himself up, he said under his breath —

"Ye grinning loons, ye'll not scairt me, but gin ye do lay hands on me, I'll gi'e ye a clout that'll teach ye manners."

The uneasiness of the Scotsmen at the monkeys' antics must have been amusing enough to the natives, who not only tolerated the saucy creatures, but looked upon them as sacred, and therefore regarded their appearance on the scene as a favourable omen; in fact, nothing more fortunate for the success of the embassy could have occurred. The pawarress, or priests, were particularly pleased. So, too, was the king; and when at last the monkeys, doubling up their chains again, returned to the tree-tops and scampered off in high glee, both he and the priests were ready to enter into negotiations.

A treaty was accordingly drawn up and ratified, whereby full freedom was given to the Scots to settle in the land and enjoy it, and between them and the natives there was declared to be peace "as long as rivers ran, and gold was found in Darien." Then followed a banquet prepared and served in true native style. The roast flesh of the peccary, broiled fish from the mountain streams, and luscious fruit from the trees all around composed the bill of fare; and the hungry visitors needed no urging until there was produced the dish of honour, being a huge lizard, called the iguana, carefully baked and served up with tomato sauce.

One look at it was quite sufficient to make the Scotsmen suddenly lose their appetites. With one consent they began to invent excuses for letting the tempting dish go by them. All except Mr. Paterson. He had tasted iguana before and knew it was not at all unsavoury. Moreover, good manners required that this item should not be treated with disgust. So he bravely helped himself to a goodly slice, and when it came round to Donalblane, he, by way of atoning for his mistake in regard to the monkeys, did likewise.

It was a hard job getting down the first morsel, but the flesh proving white, firm, and of fine quality, with a flavour somewhat resembling chicken, he actually managed to polish off his portion, being rewarded therefor by a look of warm approval from Mr. Paterson.

The following morning the embassy set forth on their return to the coast, attended by all the honours and marks of goodwill that had marked their arrival; but before they reached their destination Donalblane had an adventure that came within an ace of costing him his life.

The purpose of their mission having been so satisfactorily accomplished, Mr. Paterson readily assented to the request of his companions, that they should linger on the way back in order to enjoy some hunting.