Donalblane of Darien
Copyright© 2024 by J. Macdonald Oxley
Chapter 6: 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—
“We ought to, if we keep our heads. There are certainly enough of us.”
Counting her crew the ship carried three hundred men, and if these stood to their weapons they should prove a match for the enemy, whose numbers would probably not exceed one hundred. But the utter lack of discipline or order amongst the expedition filled both Mr. Paterson and Mr. Sutherland with fears as to the result.
In addition to small-arms, the Bonnie Scotland carried eight carronades which had been neglected during the voyage, but were now hastily got in order and double-shotted under the direction of Mr. Paterson, who seemed to know how everything should be done.
Meanwhile the buccaneer was steadily coming on, and evidently manoeuvring to approach astern so as to prevent the Bonnie Scotland using her broadside.
But the veteran captain saw through the trick, and at once changed his vessel’s course, saying with a sardonic smile—
“Red Angus is no sae simple as ye think. He kens your wicked wile, and just how to fool ye.”
Mr. Paterson, disgusted as he had been by the brutality of the captain during the voyage, could not help now admiring the consummate skill with which he handled his clumsy craft, for the Bonnie Scotland was far from being what she ought to have been.
He seemed to be able to divine every movement of the buccaneer, and to meet it by a counter-movement which prevented the latter obtaining the advantage sought. Thus the two vessels dodged about among the white-caps, for a strong breeze was blowing, until at last the buccaneer apparently gave up all strategy, and bore directly down upon the Bonnie Scotland at the risk of a broadside.
“Now then, gunners, be ready to fire when I give you the word,” was Mr. Paterson’s command, and, matches in hand, the men he had selected for the duty stood beside the carronades, waiting his word. He did not speak until the buccaneer was not more than a hundred yards distant, and then the captain, by a sudden turn of his wheel, throwing the Bonnie Scotland around so that she presented her beam to the advancing vessel, Mr. Paterson shouted—
“All together! Fire!”
The three carronades roared as one, and their iron missiles went hurtling into the rigging of the buccaneer and along her crowded decks, bringing a lot of the rigging down by the run, injuring the foremast so that it showed signs of tottering, and killing and wounding a number of the scoundrels, who were evidently not expecting so heavy a broadside. Certainly the immediate effect of the discharge was most encouraging, and Donalblane clapped his hands gleefully as the damaged vessel fell off, while the Bonnie Scotland kept on her course.
“They got it then, didn’t they?” he exclaimed. “That’ll teach them to leave honest folk alone, eh?” and he waved his sword exultantly towards the enemy.
“It is wise not to hurrah until you are out of the wood, my boy,” said Mr. Paterson, who just then chanced to be passing. “That is only first blood for us. The buccaneers will soon return to the attack, and then may Heaven defend us!”
If the Bonnie Scotland had been anything but the slow-going tub she was she might have made her escape while the buccaneer was repairing damages. But it was not in her to do this, and she wallowed cumbrously in the waves until the enemy once more ranged close.
Although her sides were pierced for many guns whose black muzzles were thrust threateningly out, the buccaneer, for some reason, reserved her fire. Perhaps, having no doubt as to the issue of the struggle, her commander wished to save the other vessel as far as possible uninjured.
Approaching more warily this time, he so managed as to come up astern of the Bonnie Scotland, and, in spite of the latter’s efforts to avoid the onset, bore down upon her, the two ships colliding with a grinding crash and the rattle of interlocking spars.
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