Chapter Twenty Three.
“Why, Belton, not changing your duds?” said the lieutenant, as he returned from his colloquy with his commanding officer.
“No, sir; just going to. Did my—did the captain know I was nearly seized by that shark?”
“Yes; I told him.”
“What did he say, sir?”
“That you were to be more careful.”
Syd stared.
“Was that all, sir?”
“Yes, my lad. I think he said something about you’d grow more clever by and by. But go and get on some dry things.”
Syd felt crestfallen and hurt, that after such a terrific adventure his father should be so cool.
But down below the news had already spread, and as he went to the berth to change his things, a knot of his messmates were ready and eager to question him for the endorsement of what they had heard from the boatswain and the men.
He told what he had to tell rather unwillingly, and when he had done regretted that he had said a word, for the careless young dogs only laughed.
“That wasn’t half an adventure,” cried Bolton. “You should have drawn your dirk, dived under him, and slit him up. That’s what the niggers do.”
“Yes,” said Jenkins, “or else have had hold of his tail, and made him tow you. I would.”
“Why, Jenky,” cried Roylance, “he’d have taken you like a pill.”
“I believe,” cried Syd, angrily, “that you’d all have liked it better if I’d come back with one leg snapped off.”
“Yes,” sneered Terry, who was laughing by the door.
“No, no,” cried Jenkins, maliciously. “Mike Terry would have liked to see him without any fistusses.”
“Why?” said Roylance.
“’Cause he could lick him then.”
“I’ll put that down in my log, Baby,” said Terry, with an ugly laugh. “You’re getting deeply in my debt, and you’ll have to pay, or I shall have to pay you.”
“Oh, lor’,” cried the little middy, diving under the table in mock alarm, and then slowly raising his head up on the other side, to peer at Terry. “What would become of me if I hadn’t a good banker.”
“Who’s your banker, Baby?” said Roylance, mockingly.
“Syd Belton there,” and there was a laugh.
Terry ground his teeth together, as he turned away and went on deck, followed by a roar of laughter.
“Look here, I say,” cried Syd, who bore his honours very mildly, “you shouldn’t tease Terry like that, Jenkins; he’ll serve you out for it some day.”
“He daren’t. I should come to you.”
“And I shouldn’t help you, for you’d deserve it.”
“Very well,” said the little fellow, “I’d fight my own battle. Who’s afraid? Cock-a-doodle-do!”
He gave a clever imitation of a pugnacious game-cock, after clapping his hands against his sides.
“Terry wouldn’t touch him,” said Roylance, laughing. “Little people are licenced to be saucy. But I say, Belton, what’s the rock like?”
Syd described it as well as he could, and he was listened to with eager attention, but it did not seem probable to Roylance that anything further would come of it.
He was undeceived the next morning though, for after signalling and visiting of the two commanders, it appeared that something definite was to be done, and soon after the stir began.
“Here, Belton,” said Roylance, “what do you say to this? I believe we’re going to attack the town.”
Contradiction came the next moment in the excitement on deck.
“This means business,” said Roylance, as he stood with Syd, watching the carrying out of certain orders; and in due time two long guns were placed ready, the barge and the launch were lowered down, and gun-carriages and tackle were hoisted down into each.
The men worked well, for this was a change from the monotony of cruising to and fro on the look-out for ships which never came, or which when overhauled only proved to be friends.
The sea was like glass, and in the course of the next few hours the guns were got ashore, shears being erected on the rock, and the heavy masses of metal and their carriages were landed, beside a good deal of other material likely to be useful in occupying the rock.
And all this while great excitement prevailed as to who were to be the lucky ones told off for the garrison, as it was laughingly called. But they were not long kept in doubt, for it was soon whispered that Lieutenant Dallas was to be in charge, with about a dozen men and a junior officer or two.
Who were to be the junior officers, was the question at the mess, the prevailing decision arrived at being that Bolton and Baby Jenks were the pair.
Early next morning the crews of the barge and second cutter were piped away, and a busy scene followed, as barrels and cases were handed down, till the boats were well-laden, and then there was a cessation, the crews evidently waiting for their orders.
It was a glorious day, and after looking at the men selected, Sydney gazed longingly at the stack of things lying on the rock, covered with a couple of sails and some tarpaulin, which, in case of wind arising, were kept down by casks planted on their corners.
The place looked very tempting to Sydney, though he could not help a shudder running through him as he gazed at the little natural pier, which the sea kept flooding and leaving bare.
“I dare say there are plenty of sharks hanging about,” he said; and once more the accident seemed to repeat itself vividly.
He had soon something else to think about, for he saw Lieutenant Dallas come out of the captain’s cabin, where he had evidently been to receive his orders, which was the case, and they were simple enough.
“The rock would be invaluable to an enemy, Mr Dallas,” the captain had said; “and if they occupied it, as the only safe channel to the port lies close by, they could annoy us fearfully, perhaps sink one of our vessels, and to storm such a place would mean terrible loss of life. So you will occupy it and hold it at all hazards. Either I or my consort will communicate as often as we can, and you shall be well supplied with stores before those you have get low.”
“I understand, sir,” said Dallas; “and I will hold the rock to the last.”
“Your courage may not be put to the test, Mr Dallas,” said the captain. “Au revoir. Make yourself and your men as comfortable as you can. I have been ashore and examined the place.”
“You have, sir?”
“Yes, I went in the night, and I am quite satisfied that it can be held against any odds. Good-bye.”
He shook hands, and the young lieutenant went out, wondering how the captain could have managed, and then hurried to the side to see if the last arrangements had been made.
He was busy over this, having passed near to Syd without taking any notice of him, much to the lad’s annoyance, for he had tried to catch the lieutenant’s eye.
At this moment Roylance came along toward where he was standing, but he paid no heed, for something else had taken his attention.
The boatswain had come on deck, and made his way to the side, where he touched his hat to Lieutenant Dallas, and then proceeded to obey some orders which he had received. Syd was about to intercept him, his longing to be one of the party increasing.
“I wouldn’t care,” he said to himself, “if they’d let me help land the stores. I did go out first, and here I’ve been left out of all the fun because I slipped and went overboard. It’s too bad.”
He was hurrying after the boatswain, when something else caught his eye. A member of the mess came fussing up on deck, fuming with importance, and Syd turned and was uttering some angry expression, when he found himself face to face with Roylance.
“Oh, what a shame!” cried Sydney.
“What’s the matter?”
“Terry’s going in the barge to land the stores.”
“And who’s going in the second cutter?” said Roylance.
“I don’t know; I didn’t hear. I did hope they’d order me to go in the barge.”
“Why, what a cocky chap you are, Belt! You’ve had no experience at all.”
“I know that, but I want to get it, and I can’t learn to take charge of a boat unless they send me. Who’s going in the second cutter?”
“I am.”
“You? Oh, how lucky you fellows are!”
“I don’t think there’ll be much luck in it, for the heat will be terrible, and I don’t suppose we shall have been there very long before we wish ourselves back on board.”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
“But I do. Think of the work of getting those guns and things up to the top.”
“But I thought the party who were going to stay would do that?”
“Of course: that’s it. The barge is coming back on board as soon as she has landed her stores, and the second cutter to-night.”
“Well, then you’ll only have all day.”
“Nonsense; I’m going to stop.”
“Oh! You’re as lucky as Terry.”
“Yes, but I wish he was coming back. Not a pleasant messmate to have ashore with me. I’m sure you wouldn’t like to be along with him.”
“Perhaps not; but I did want to come, for I know so much about the rock.—Oh! I did want to go.”
“Better stop on board, lad. I dare say we shall have a good deal of trouble with the men, though they do like Mr Dallas.”
“Oh, but I shouldn’t mind that,” said Syd, thoughtfully. “I say.”
“Well.”
“Couldn’t you manage to smuggle me off in your boat?”
“I could; but look here, you are the captain’s son. Go and ask leave to go, even if you have to come back in the boats.”
“Oh, yes; I’m the captain’s son,” said Sydney, bitterly; “and that’s the very reason why I should not be allowed.”
“What, for fear you should be eaten up by the shark this time?”
“Joke away; you’re all right,” said Syd, sulkily.
“Don’t take it like that, Belton, old fellow,” said Roylance, laying his hand upon his arm. “I’d a hundred times rather have you than Terry. I say, look! here’s the first luff. I know he likes us fellows to be eager to learn our profession. Go and ask him to let you go.”
“Shall I?” said Syd, hesitatingly.
“Yes; go along. He seems always harsh and rough with everybody, but he isn’t a bad one when you come to know him.”
“But he’s busy now.”
“Never mind; go on.”
It seemed a very simple thing to do to go up to the officer, touch your hat, and ask leave to go with the boats, but there was that peculiar something so hard to get over which keeps lads back from proffering a petition, and saves their elders and those in authority very often the pain of having to refuse.
Syd suffered severely on that occasion from this peculiar form of timidity, till he saw one boat manned and pull off with its load.
In another quarter of an hour the other would be ready, he knew, and then his chance would be gone.
The first lieutenant passed along the deck, and Syd thought he looked very severe. He came back, and he looked worse. It was impossible to ask him, and Syd shrank away and went to where Roylance was busy speaking to the coxswain of his boat.
“I say,” whispered Syd, taking him by the sleeve.
“Yes.”
“Ask the luff to let me go with you, there’s a good fellow.”
Roylance gave him a merry look.
“Well, you are a queer one, Belt,” he said. “Not afraid to stand up before Mike Terry, and yet daren’t go and ask the luff to let you go ashore.”
“I’m not exactly afraid,” said Syd.
“But you daren’t go.”
“Yes, I dare,” he said; and he went up boldly now.
“Beg pardon, sir,” he said, touching his hat.
“Eh? Yes, Mr Belton; what is it?”
“May I go with the second cutter, sir?”
“You? Mr Roylance is going.”
“Yes, sir. I wanted to go too.”
“Like to take Mr Jenkins as well as Mr Bolton for a good game?”
“Yes, sir; very much,” said Syd, eagerly, in astonishment that the severe officer was so amiable.
“Humph! of course. Look here, Mr Belton, do you know what the old proverb says?”
“About idleness, sir?”
“No, not that one. This:—A boy is a boy.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Two boys are half a boy.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And three boys are no boy at all. I want some work done, so I send one boy with each boat. Hi! bo’sun; better take another breaker of water; you may not find any, and we do not want to communicate for some hours.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” cried Strake, and he busied himself about the order.
“Got your arms all right, and plenty of ammunition?”
“Yes, sir,” said Roylance.
“May I go, sir?” said Syd, tentatively.
But the lieutenant did not appear to have heard him, and stood giving order after order to the officer and the boat’s crew, asking endless questions about the stores they had on board.
“And I should so like to have gone,” thought Syd, as he gazed longingly at the rock, standing up grey and brown and green against the deep blue sea, whose waters washed with creamy foam the bottom of the huge mass of stone.
He turned with a sigh to watch the first lieutenant, who was now busily talking to Lieutenant Dallas and Roylance, and Syd knew that in another minute or two the boat, would be pushed off, when the boatswain came up behind him.
“Aren’t you going with us, Master Syd?”
“No, Barney,” he replied, sadly; “I’m not going.”
“Why don’t yer ask the luff to let yer go, sir? Be a bit of a change.”
“I did ask him, Barney.”
“And did he say you warn’t to go, sir?”
“No; he seemed as if he wouldn’t answer me.”
“Didn’t say downright as you shouldn’t go?”
“No.”
“Well, sir, you’re a young gent, and the capen’s son, and course I wouldn’t tell yer to do nothin’ wrong; but in the old days when we was goin’ to cut out ships from under the guns of a fort, or to land and upset some town, the young gents used to smuggle theirselves into the boat and get down among the men’s legs, and the skipper and the luff wouldn’t see ’em.”
“Wouldn’t see them—why?”
“’Cause bein’ very young gents they wouldn’t send ’em or give ’em leave to go ’cause o’ the danger, but they liked ’em to go all the same, ’cause it showed they’d got sperret in ’em.”
“Barney!” whispered Syd, looking at the bo’sun searchingly.
“No, sir; I won’t say go,” was whispered back. “You can’t ’spect it. But—”
Syd’s eyes sparkled and he gave a cautious look round to see that the captain was on the quarter-deck, and that the first lieutenant had his back to him and was energetically insisting upon something to Roylance.
The next moment Syd was over the side, and down amongst the crew.
“Hide me somewhere, lads,” he whispered eagerly. There was a laugh.
“Arn’t you scared about meeting Jack Shark again, sir?” said one of the men.
“Hold your row, Jim,” said another. “This way, sir.” There was a little scuffling about, and the next minute, half fearing that he was playing ostrich and had only concealed his head, Syd was listening. He had hardly ceased moving when he heard the first lieutenant saying something to Lieutenant Dallas, who was evidently descending the side.
“I wouldn’t depend too much on that tackle. The guns are very heavy. Now, Mr Roylance; in with you.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” came in peculiar tones; and Syd felt disgusted that he should not have been able to come down into the boat in the same way, instead of sneaking in like a rat.
“Seems to be a good deal of swell on amongst these little rocks,” said the first lieutenant. “You’ll land at the other place.”
“Oh, yes,” said the second lieutenant; and from where he lay Syd could just get a glimpse of him as he stood up in the stern-sheets.
“He must have seen me,” he thought; and looking upwards, there right over the side, and quite plainly to be seen, were the head and shoulders of the first lieutenant gazing down into the boat.
Perfectly certain now that he should be shouted at for trying to get off in the boat, Sydney lay perfectly still, waiting for the unpleasant order; but oddly enough thinking at the same time that ignominious as it would be to crawl up the ladder and climb on board, he should be spared one pain—Terry would not be there to sneer at him.
“Might have been worse,” he thought, as he gathered himself together, ready to spring out and get the trouble over.
But the order did not come, and he only heard a growling sound as the boatswain said something to one of the men.
“They’re waiting for something,” thought Syd, as a low talking arose on deck; and he heard a voice reply which he knew was his father’s, and the blood flushed to his cheeks.
“Give way, my lads!” came at last, and Syd exultantly exclaimed to himself, as the tension was taken off—
“He didn’t see me,” and he heard the oars splash, and felt that the boat was gliding through the water.
But Sydney was not quite right, for as soon as the boat had put off, the first lieutenant went aft to where the captain was standing, examining the rock.
“Well, Mr Bracy,” he said, as he closed the glass with a snap.
“I thought I’d tell you, sir, that Mr Belton came and asked leave to go in the last boat.”
“Did you give him permission?”
“No, sir.”
“That’s right.”
“But—”
“Eh?” said Captain Belton, raising his eyebrows; “he has taken French leave and gone?”
“Yes; he was stowed away there amidships.”
“And you forbade his going?” said the captain, frowning.
“Oh, no, I did not forbid him, sir.”
“Well, well, Mr Bracy; we were boys once,” said the captain, smiling.
“Yes, sir, I’m afraid I did the same.”
“And I more than twice, Bracy. One must be a little blind sometimes with a boy of spirit. Bit of change for him. How is he getting on?”
“Capitally. Full of promise.”
“Then I hope he will perform. By the way, there was one thing I did not mention to you—a spar for a flagstaff. I should like them to be able to hoist the colours when anything comes in sight.”
“I thought of it, sir. They have everything I could think of, and at a pinch ought to be able to hold out for three months.”
“I don’t think the pinch will come, Bracy.—Ah, they are getting close in.”
“Yes,” said the lieutenant, shading his eyes. “First boat is landing her additional stores. One comfort at this time of year, there is no fear of rain, so that they need not trouble much about getting covered in to-night.”
“No,” said the captain, thoughtfully, “but I hope Mr Dallas will get everything covered in all the same.”
They were following the second boat, as it rose and fell on the mirror-like surface of the water, till she was cleverly run alongside the rocks, when the captain opened his glass once more, and stood watching—the first lieutenant seeing a smile come over his stern features, and rightly interpreting that he was gazing at his son more than the actions of the men, who were quickly landing the additional stores that they had taken to the rock; the tackle previously rigged up being lowered again and again, and the cases and kegs cleverly swung ashore, the men dipping their oars at the word of command, and every time a box was swung up the boat was drawn out of danger, ready to be backed in when the tackle was once more lowered down.
“Yes,” said the captain, thoughtfully, “I have no doubt that Mr Dallas will prove himself most able in this business. Weather seems settled down, Bracy.”
“Yes, sir; but you know what it is in these latitudes. A smile one minute and a kick the next, and when it does rain—well, it’s a good job it doesn’t last, for we don’t want another flood.”
The captain went on pacing the quarter-deck, looking very cold and stern, but with a glow about his heart.
“He’ll make a smart officer,” he said to himself,—“one of whom we shall be proud. I’ll write and tell Tom about this. How he will chuckle and enjoy it! But I suppose I must lecture the young dog when he comes on board to-night. Discipline must be maintained.”
That evening, after the men had been busily helping, the barge came back and was hoisted on board. The captain walked on deck, but recollected that it was in the second cutter that Syd had gone, and he went back to his cabin.
Just at sundown the second boat returned with the coxswain and crew, and she was hoisted up.
“Humph!” said the captain to himself, as he heard the squeaking sound made by the falls, “I will not send for him to-night; I’ll have a few words with him in the morning. Let me see, I’ll send word to him by Strake. Bah! how absurd. The bo’sun has gone ashore to help putting up the tackle for hoisting the guns.”
In the course of the evening, when the stars were blazing overhead, and the rock was invisible in the soft, transparent darkness of the night, the captain was walking up and down, when he encountered the first lieutenant, and they compared notes about the beauty of the night, and how advantageous it was for the unhoused men ashore.
“By the way, Bracy,” said the captain, “have you reproved Mr Belton? because, if not, leave it to me.”
“Oh, certainly, sir; but of course I have not had a chance.”
“What do you mean?”
“I supposed that he had only gone ashore for the day, and would come back with the last boat.”
“Well, hasn’t he?”
“No, sir; he has stopped ashore.”
Chapter Twenty Four.
That was a busy day on the rock, which was in places so hot to their bare feet that the men laughed as they stepped gingerly about.
“I say, mate,” said one of them in the intervals of hauling up a case, and just as he had noted that Syd was close by, “d’yer know what’s for dinner to-day?”
“Ay, lad; cold junk and biscuit.”
“Better than that, messmate; on’y it wants the young gen’leman to set to work and ketch some shrimps for sarce.”
“What d’yer mean, lad?”
“Fried soles, lad, fried soles,” said the other. “Mine’s ’most done brown.”
Syd was not supposed to be on duty, but he was so much interested in the whole affair that he was as busy as any one, and it was while he was high up on the rock, looking on at the rigging up of a couple of spars, crane-fashion, for hoisting the stores, that he came across the lieutenant, who gave him a peculiar look and a smile, and then went on giving a few orders before going higher to re-inspect the chasm, prior to getting the stores and light things in there.
“Couldn’t see yer, Master Syd,” whispered the boatswain. “’Stonishing how invisible young gents is sometimes.”
But there was little time for talking. Work was the order of the day, and so clever were the contrivances for hoisting, and so well did the men work, that by sundown all the light things were under cover in the chasm, and only the guns, barrels, and heavy cases down by the natural pier. These latter were covered in turn, and made fast with pieces of rock piled upon the edge of the tarpaulins, after which the men of the barge embarked and went back to the ship, the crew of the second cutter following, and the garrison being gathered in their new quarters, high up in the cleft of the great rock, for a hearty meal, to which Sydney came down from the bare fork of the cleft, ravenously hungry, and at once fell to.
He was partaking of his portion with eager zest, when Roylance, who had been busy below seeing to the covering of the barrels, came up.
“Why, Belt,” he said, in a whisper; “not gone back?”
“No,” said Syd, laconically.
“But I thought you’d gone back in the second cutter.”
“No,” said Syd, with his mouth full; “I did mean to, but I’ve been exploring, and when I came back the boat was gone.”
“What are you doing here?” said a sharp voice.
“Eating,” said Syd, without looking up.
“Don’t be insolent, sir. I am one of the officers of this expedition, and on duty. You have no business here.”
“Look here, Terry,” said Syd, eating away in the most nonchalant fashion; “I’m hungry, and don’t want to leave off and spoil my dinner. I don’t want to quarrel to-night.”
“This is insufferable,” cried Terry, who felt clothed in authority as second officer of the expedition, and striding away, he found out the lieutenant, and stated what he had seen.
“He had no business here, Mr Terry,” said the lieutenant, quietly; “but of course we can do nothing to-night.”
“If we signalled for a boat, sir?”
“One would come and fetch him off, but would create unnecessary alarm. And look here, Mr Terry, is it not time you forgot old sores, and became good friends with your messmates?”
“I don’t understand you, sir,” said Terry, haughtily. “Then I’ll try and be plainer,” said the lieutenant, rather sharply. “Don’t you think it is a pity that you should let your enmity to Mr Belton make you jump at a chance to do him a bad turn?”
“I came here, sir, to do my duty, and I reported misconduct on the part of one of the midshipmen.”
“Who once gave you a good thrashing, Mr Terry, for playing the bully. There, there, my good lad, forget and forgive, and don’t try and usurp my duties here. I will look after Mr Belton.”
“Such confounded favouritism to the captain’s son!” muttered Terry; but it was loud enough for the lieutenant to hear, and he exclaimed, hotly—
“And if you dare to say such a thing as that again, sir, I’ll clap you under arrest, and put Mr Belton in your place.” Terry slunk off and stood about sulking till the men had finished, and were then set to work to make a temporary shelter for the night, which was quickly done by tying the edges of the sails they had brought to some spars, and resting these against the perpendicular side of the rock in the cleft, thus forming a lean-to, which was spacious enough to cover the men and the stores and ammunition already protected by the tarpaulins thrown over them.
Roylance and Syd were standing together in the darkness, watching the men arranging the spars and hauling the canvas tight, when Syd laid his hand upon his companion’s arm.
“Don’t speak or move,” he whispered; “but look down to the right. There’s some wild beast crawling up from the west end of the gap.”
Roylance gripped Syd’s hand to indicate that he saw the creature, and they remained silent, watching it creeping nearer and nearer, till it reached the spot where the men had been making their meal, and there it seemed to pause for a few minutes before returning the way it came.
It was so dark that its motions were more those of a shadow than of some living creature, and at last it seemed quite to die away among some loose rocks, just where the gap ended in a precipice.
“Gone,” said Sydney, drawing a long breath; “why, it was after the provisions.”
“Evidently. I couldn’t have thought that there were any live creatures here.”
“Looked like a great monkey.”
“Well, I thought so once—an ape, but it couldn’t have been.”
“I say,” whispered Syd; “was it a man, and they’re going to play some prank on us from the ship to see if we are on the look-out?”
“What’s that?” said a voice behind them, and the two lads started to find that the lieutenant had come up to them unawares while they were talking earnestly.
“We just saw something come up from that end of the gap, sir,” said Syd; “it was like a monkey.”
“And Mr Belton here fancies it might be a spy from the Sirius to see if we were on the watch,” said Roylance.
“Impossible! they would not play us such a trick. Stop, it might be from the enemy—a boat landing men to see what we are about. But where?” he said, excitedly. “They couldn’t have landed where we did, because there are two men on the watch, and I don’t think there is any other place. Let’s see.”
Orders were given, the men seized their arms, and after a few admonitory words had been whispered, a search commenced, anything but an adequate one, for the task was one of risk, and the men had to proceed with the greatest caution, so as not to make a false step and go over the side, either into the sea or down one of the cracks and rifts into which the rock was cleft.
This went on for a couple of hours, during which the men on the watch were certain that no one had landed, and at last the weary sailors felt ready to endorse the remark of Terry, which somehow became spread among them, that it was only a trick of the captain’s son to set them on the alert.
At last this came to the lieutenant’s ears, and he called Syd and Roylance aside.
“Was this some prank?” he said, sternly.
“I would not be guilty of such a trick, sir,” said Syd, warmly. “It would have been unfair to the men, who were tired, and an insult to you, sir.”
“Of course it would, gentlemen,” said the lieutenant. “I beg your pardon.”
He went away, feeling rather uneasy, and set watches in two more places, with orders to fire at the slightest alarm. Then in turn with Terry he visited the posts during the early part of the night, and in turn with Roylance during the latter part, the anxieties of the new command keeping him on the alert.
As for Syd, he sat talking to Roylance for a time after going up to a point where on the one side they could see the lights of the ship as she lay to in the offing, and on the other, very dimly, the distant lamps of the town of Saint Jacques, or those at the head of its harbour.
It was a strange experience up there in that cleft, under the shelter of the tent, with the distant murmur of breaking waves upon the rocks. The low buzz of the men lulled for a time, then ceased, and Syd lay gazing at a great bright star which he could see peering through a slit between two outstretched sails. Then that star passed out of sight and another moved in, followed by another, which grew dim, then dimmer, and finally disappeared, for the simple reason that Syd’s eyes had closed and he was fast asleep.
Chapter Twenty Five.
The bustle about him at daybreak woke Syd up to find that it was a glorious morning, but a sharp breeze had arisen; the sea was alive with breaking waves, and great rollers kept coming in to thunder upon the rock, sending up the broken water so far that it was evidently the first duty to get all the tackle and raise the remainder of the cases and barrels to the level of the cleft.
Willing hands worked well at this, and at last everything was got up in safety on the first platform ready for running into the cleft, all save the two dismounted guns and their carriages, which were not likely to hurt, and the raising of these was deferred till after the breakfast, which one of the men who acted as cook had prepared.
“There’ll be no communication with the ship to-day, gentlemen,” said the lieutenant, “unless the wind drops. Why, she must be three miles farther away, and I can’t see the Orion. Bad job for you, Mr Belton.”
“Yes, sir,” said Syd, quietly going on with his breakfast, and glancing at Terry, who scowled.
“Well, I shall make you work. That’s the only plan in dealing with stowaways.”
“Oh, I’ll work, sir,” said Syd. “When I’ve done break fast,” he added to himself.
“I tell you what,” said the lieutenant; “we shall all be busy getting up and mounting those guns, so I shall set you to find your mare’s-nest.”
“My what, sir?”
“Mare’s-nest, my lad. You shall have two of our most active lads well-armed. Take pistols yourself, and be careful with them. Go and search every hole and cranny you can. Find the thing you saw last night, and bring him or it to me. I’m satisfied it was no one from the Sirius, and it may be some young black sent across and landed to find out what he can.”
As soon as the morning meal was ended Syd set about his task, meeting with a lowering look from Terry as he passed him. Two smart young fellows were his companions, and the fact that he had a brace of loaded pistols stuck in his belt making him feel more important than ever he had felt before, till he came upon Strake, who was busy at the very part where he had seen the dark figure pass, and strengthening and adding to the tackle which was to be used to get up the guns.
“Mornin’, Mr Belton, sir,” said the boatswain; and stepping aside so as to be out of hearing, he said in a low voice, “’Member what I says to you when I was cleaning the cap’in’s pistols?”
“Yes, I remember, Barney,” said Syd, in the same low tone.
“Then I says it again, sir, that’s all.”
“I’ll take care,” said Syd; and he went on in advance of his men, but feeling as if the old boatswain had been cutting his comb.
An isolated mass of rock some eight or ten acres in extent does not suggest that there would be much difficulty in the way of search; but before they had gone many yards Syd realised that he had a very awkward task, and that a rope would be a very acceptable article for helping one another. This had to be fetched, and then once more they started, with Syd beginning to feel the responsibilities of his work, and the necessity for showing that he possessed energy and determination if he wished the men to obey.
They had not gone much past their first halting-place when he stopped and hesitated, for there were cracks and holes large enough to conceal any one, in all directions. As he stood looking round him, one of the men whispered to the other, and they both laughed.
This seemed to stir Syd up. He had inherited enough of his father’s habits to feel nettled at any doubt of his ability, and he rather startled the men by saying sharply—
“You, Rogers, go yonder to the left; Wills, you take the right. Both of you keep as close to the sea as you can, and I’ll take the centre of the rock. Keep both of you to about my pace, and whenever I’m out of sight wait till you see me again, for I’ll keep on the high ground as much as I can. Now then, off and search every hole you see. If you feel that you have run the enemy to earth, stop and fire as a signal.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” they cried together. “But what’s the enemy like, sir?”
“Find him and see,” said Syd, sharply. “Now off.”
The men separated at once, and the toilsome job began, with the sun beating down with tropical power, but the brisk wind reducing the ardour to bearing point.
“Nice job this,” thought the boy, as leaving the cleft centre of the rock a little to his left, he began his arduous clamber. “Why, it’s as bad as being an ant in a loaf-sugar basin. Given myself the hardest job.”
But he persevered, searching diligently every rift, and amongst great blocks of stone over which he afterwards clambered, seeking the highest point so as to get a sight of one or the other of his two men, who were as active as he; but they all reached the edge of the rock at the point furthest from where they had landed without making any discovery.
“Well,” cried Syd, wiping the great drops of perspiration from his brow, “found anything?”
“Lots of holes, sir,” said one.
“Cracks big enough to hold a ship’s crew, sir,” said the other.
“Back again, then,” cried Syd. “There’s either a monkey or a man in hiding somewhere about the place, and we’ve got to find him.”
“Ought to have said it” thought Syd, as he started back, shouting to the men to take lines a little nearer to him, while he too altered his course, making straight now for the cleft rock which rose like the citadel of the place.
As he climbed along he found rift after rift, some so close that he could not get his hand down, others so wide and deep that he hesitated at the task of leaping over them, wondering what would be the result if he slipped and fell. The fact grew upon him as he went on, that small as the place looked from the ship’s deck, there was plenty of room for an enemy or fifty enemies to hide; but he became more certain that the natural pier was the only place where an enemy could land; the two men having confirmed the opinion formed when Lieutenant Dallas rowed round.
“Strikes me,” said Syd to himself, as he kept on peering down into chasm after chasm, “that if we want to catch our friend we shall have to set a trap for him.”
He climbed on and came to another eerie-looking place, more forbidding than any he had yet seen. It was only a jagged crack of a couple of feet across, but it sloped outward directly, so that a vast hollow was formed, and when he shouted down it there was a deep reverberating sound which died away in a whisper.
Boy nature is boy nature all the world over, and Syd could not resist the prompting which led him to drag a great piece of stone to the edge of the crack and push it in.
He shrank back, startled at the effect of what he had done, for no sooner had the stone disappeared than it seemed to strike on the side and rebound, to strike again and then again and again, raising an echoing, booming roar, which ended as suddenly as it had begun.
“I can’t go down a place like that,” he said, impatiently, as he shrank away; and then he stood staring, for the noise began again. But not below ground, for it was as if the rock had come crashing out in front of him a hundred and fifty feet away, to be followed by a hurried shouting; and on climbing a block of stone to his right, he made out one of his men looking out for him, and waving his hand and shouting—“Back! Back!”
Something was wrong. Perhaps it was an attack; and he clambered higher so as to attract the attention of the other man, who also shouted and waved his hand before pointing at the citadel in front.
“Something must be wrong,” thought Syd, and he hurried panting on, to get in sight of the end of the chasm at last, but he could see nothing, only that the spars rigged up crane-fashion were not there.
He was now on the highest part of the ridge, which ran down from the centre rock to the end; and as he clambered along he gazed seaward in search of the frigate, but it seemed to be gone. The next moment, though, he caught sight of her top-gallant spars, and realised that she must be sailing right away.
The heat was tremendous as Syd struggled on, finding that he had selected a far worse piece of the rock than had fallen to his men, and that his task would prove hopeless without the whole party turned out to help.
All at once, after getting over a block of rugged limestone, which seemed full of coral, he found that he must let himself right down into a deep crack, or else clamber to right or left, where the difficulties were far greater, even if they were surmountable.
He paused for a few moments to wipe his streaming face, and looked up overhead longingly at where the wind was whistling among the blocks of stone, and then lowered himself carefully down some thirty feet, stood listening to a curious sound which came whispering up from where the chasm he was in contracted to a mere crack, and after coming to the conclusion that it must be caused by there being some communication with the sea, he crossed the crack, and began to climb up the other side, where before he was half-way up one of his two men appeared peering over the edge, and looking down with a scared face.
“Oh, there you are, sir,” he cried; “we was getting frightened, and thought you’d tumbled.”
“No: give me your hand. Thank you. Phew! how hot it is down there!” cried Syd, as he climbed out and stood in the comparatively cool sea-breeze again. “But why did you hail me?”
“Don’t know, sir. There’s some’at wrong up yonder.”
“Something wrong? Not attacked, are they?”
“Dunno, sir.”
“Where’s your messmate?”
“Here he comes, sir,” said the man, waving his hand; and following their young leader, the two sailors made for the end of the great chasm where the guns were to be hoisted up, and Strake had been so busy with the tackle.
For some minutes, as they climbed over or round the obstacles, there was nothing to be seen; but after creeping round a bold corner of rock, Syd suddenly found himself looking down on the whole party from the ship gathered in a knot round what seemed from the rope and tackle to be one of the guns.
“Got it up, and it slipped and fell,” thought Syd, as he lowered himself down and made his way to Roylance, whom he touched on the back.
“What’s the mat—”
He did not finish, for as the midshipman turned Syd caught sight of the gun and ropes, with some handspikes which had evidently been used as levers.
All that was at a glance. Then he pushed his way forward to sink down on one knee beside the lieutenant, who was lying on his back, his face haggard and ghastly, his teeth set and his eyes closed, while the great drops of agony were gathering on his brow.
He saw no more, for a piece of sail was thrown over his legs.
“Mr Dallas,” he cried, “what is it? Are you ill?” A low murmur ran round the little group, and at that moment the boatswain appeared with a pannikin of water from one of the tubs.
As the lieutenant heard the lad’s voice, he opened his eyes, looked round wildly, and then his gaze rested on Syd’s anxious face.
“Ah, Belton,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “bad job. The gear gave way—confounded gun—fell—crushed my legs. Ah!”
He uttered a groan full of anguish and fainted away.
“It’s horrible!” cried Roylance, as every one looked on helplessly. “No surgeon; the gale increasing, and the ship out of sight. Here, some one get some brandy or rum. Ah, Belton!” he whispered, with the tears in his eyes, “such a good fellow, and I’m afraid it’s all over.”
Syd heard this as if in a dream, as a deathly feeling of sickness came over him, and there floated before his eyes a scene in a grand old beech-wood near home, with a group of men standing round, helplessly as these were, the sun shining down like a silver shower through the branches, beneath which was a doctor’s gig and a man in a smock frock holding the horse’s head. There on the moss, where scattered white chips shone out clearly, lay a fine, well-built young man close by the trunk of a tree which he had been helping to fell, but had not got out of the way soon enough, and the trunk had crushed his legs.
The scene died away, and he was gazing down again at the unfortunate lieutenant instead of at the woodman, with the doctor on his knee and a boy by his side; and as the deathly sickness passed off he was brought more to himself by hearing the haughty domineering voice of Terry.
“Stand away, some of you—all of you!” he cried. “Mr Belton, do you hear me? Go away, sir; you are keeping the air from the wounded man.”
Accustomed to obey, fresh ashore from the ship where the discipline was of the strictest, Syd drew back; but as he did so a hysterical sob burst from his throat, and he stepped forward again.
“Confound you, sir! do you hear me?” cried Terry. “I am in command now. Stand back, or I’ll put you under arrest.”
As he advanced threateningly, Roylance touched Syd’s sleeve.
“Don’t make a row now, for poor Dallas’s sake. Look! He’s dying.”
Syd looked at him quickly, and then turned back to face Terry, as he said in a dreamy way—“Is there no help?”
“Will you stand back, sir?”
“No doctor? No one who understands—”
“Here, bo’sun—Strake; seize Mr Belton, and take him away.”
No one stirred, but a murmur ran round the group as with a bitter cry of agony Syd stepped forward so quickly that Terry drew back, expecting a blow. But the lad did not even see him, and he was in the act of sinking on his knees to take the lieutenant’s hand, when his eyes rested on the piece of sail-cloth thrown tightly over the injured man’s legs, where a ruddy patch of blood was slowly spreading.
“He’s bleeding to death,” he cried excitedly; and a change seemed to come over the boy, as he bent down and quickly drew away the sail-cloth.
“This is too much,” cried Terry. “You meddling young fool!”
Syd flushed for a moment into anger. “Roylance! Strake!” he cried, “take that idiot away.” As he turned from the astounded middy, he threw off his jacket, gave one glance at Dallas, whose eyes were fixed upon him in a wild despairing way; and then knife in hand he was down upon his knees.
“Here, Barney,” he said, in cool firm tones, as recollections of what he had seen in the wood at home played once more through his brain; “down on your knees there by his head, and bathe his face with the cold water. Keep back on the windward side,” he continued. “Mr Roylance, let four men hold a sail over us to keep off the sun.”
His orders were so full of the force which makes men obey, that they were acted upon at once; and all the time Syd was on his knees busy.
Without a moment’s hesitation he had inserted his sharp knife at the left knee-band, and slit up the garment right to the groin, laying bare a ghastly wound that seemed to go right to the bone, and from which the blood came in one spot with a regular throb, throb, which Syd knew meant death before long if it was not stopped.
“Water, here!” he shouted.
“I must protest against this boy’s meddling,” cried Terry. “Mr Belton, let him die in peace.”
“Mr Roylance—” came in faint tones from the white lips of the wounded man, “take—Mr Terry—”
He fainted as he spoke, but it was enough. At a word from the midshipman two of the sailors secured Terry by the wrists, and he was forced away, while two other men ran for a bucket of water.
“Leave his head now, Barney,” cried Syd, in a quick, decided voice. “Your neckerchief, man. Quick, roll it up.”
This was handed to the young operator, who passed it under Dallas’s limb far up, tied it round in a knot, called for a jack-knife, and then shouted to the willing man who handed it to shut it up. This done he passed the knife inside the neckerchief, pressed it down on the inner part of the thigh, and then took his sheathed dirk from his belt.
This he also passed under the neckerchief, and began to twist round a few turns, drawing the bandage tightly down on the knife-handle, which, as he still twisted, was forced firmly home, pressing the artery against the bone.
This done, and the dirk secured so that it could not twist back, Syd turned to the gaping wound, from which the blood still welled, but sluggishly. The water was ready, and scooping some on to the wound, it was more plainly revealed as a great clean-cut gash, extending many inches.
Syd’s fingers were soon busily employed searching for and finding the ruptured artery, and in spite of the horrible nature of the gash, he uttered a sigh of satisfaction as he discovered it and pressed it between his finger and thumb.
“Now one of you—no, you, Strake,” he cried, “off with my handkerchief, and tear it across so as to get me a couple of strips, which roll up fine as twine.”
This was done, but the pieces were rejected as too thick.
Two more were prepared and laid ready.
“Now,” he said, “a little more water here, over my hands.”
He was obeyed, and with deft fingers, taught by Doctor Liss, he rapidly tied the artery, and the main flow of blood was stopped amid a low murmur of satisfaction, the patient, who had revived, lying perfectly motionless with his eyes fixed upon his surgeon.
And now for a few moments the lad paused, with his brow wrinkled up, thinking.
He wanted silk and a large needle, and the latter was unattainable.
“Has any one a pin or two?” he said.
There was an eager search, and the result was that five were found, of which the boatswain produced three; and then stared as he saw his young officer unbutton and strip off his white linen shirt, to kneel there half-naked beneath the rough awning the men held over them, and rapidly slit and tear it up into bandages.
By this time Roylance was back, and taking his cue from his friend, he did not hesitate to follow his example.
“Now quick, Strake,” said Syd; “lay me up a few more strips of silk as fine as you can.”
“Ay, ay, sir!” and the boatswain’s fingers were soon busy, while by means of a couple of broad bandages Syd drew the edges of the wound together, and gave the ends of the bands to two men to hold, while first in one place he cleverly thrust a pin through the skin of one side of the wound and out at the other, then holding the lips of the gash together he quickly twisted a fine thread of silk over the pin-head on one side, over the point on the other, and so on, to and fro, till the wound was closed there.
Over this a temporary bandage was secured, and he proceeded to draw the wound edges together in another place in the same way till this was also fast and temporarily bandaged over. The other three pins were similarly utilised, and then broad fresh bandages of linen were wrapped firmly round, the temporary ones being removed by degrees, and again used in a better manner, till the horrible wound was properly secured; then as Syd ceased his efforts, as if moved by one spirit, a hearty English cheer burst from every one present; and the men whose hands were not occupied threw their hats in the air.
“Hush! pray!” cried Syd, looking up angrily, as, taking his knife once more, he cut through the knee-band of the other leg, slit it up in turn, and then softly drew down the stocking.
Here he paused, and looked anxiously up at his patient, whose pallor was terrible.
“Keep on moistening his lips with a little spirit-and-water, Roylance,” he whispered, “or he will not be able to bear the pain.”
He was obeyed without a word, and after waiting a few moments the lad, clumsily enough perhaps, but with a show of some of the skill that he had seen displayed by Doctor Liss when out with him upon his rounds, began to make his examination.
The leg was terribly scraped and bruised, but this was not the trouble. Syd’s eyes were sufficiently educated to detect what was wrong, and a few delicate touches satisfied him.
“Got off a bit there, hasn’t he, Master Syd?” whispered the boatswain.
“Got off, Barney? No,” said the lad, sadly. “His thigh-bone is broken, and his leg too, just above the ankle.”
“Lor’ ha’ mussy!” muttered the boatswain, “who’d ha’ thought o’ that!”
Syd was silent, for he was face to face with another surgical problem. He wanted splints, bandages, and brown paper, and he had none of these. What was to be done?
“Two of you take your knives,” he said, “and split up the lid of one of those cases. I want half a dozen strong thin laths of different widths.”
“Ay, ay, sir!” came back; and there was the rending sound of wood heard.
“Now for bandages, Barney. Ah, I see. But I want some linen first to go next the skin.”
“Oh, you can have all the men’s, sir, and welcome, I know.”
“Yes, poor fellows. But I want some long narrow ones. You must cut them from one of the sails.”
“Ay, ay, sir!”
All worked hard at these preparations, while Syd had the longest lid of any case they had brought to him, and this, after being covered with a piece of sail-cloth, was carefully slipped under the broken limb. Then there was a certain amount of trimming and measuring required over the splints before the young surgeon was satisfied, a sensation of shrinking keeping him from beginning what was another crucial task. Fortunately the fractures were simple, and he had no very great difficulty in bringing the broken bones into their proper positions, after which he bandaged and applied the splints, making all fast, a low moan from time to time being all that escaped from the sufferer.
At last. The final bandage was secured, and a horrible weight was removed from Syd’s breast, for he knew that he had set the bones rightly even if his surgery was rough, and so far his patient had not sunk under the operation.
“Shall we carry him up yonder now, sir?” said the boatswain, touching his forelock.
“Move him? no,” cried Syd. “Rig up something over his head. He must not be touched.” Then, turning to Dallas, he went down on one knee and took his hand. “Are you in much pain?” he said.
The poor fellow was conscious, and he looked full in the speaker’s eyes; his lips moved, but no sound came, and the horrible feeling of sickness which had first troubled Syd came back, increasing so fast that the lad rose quickly and staggered a few yards.
“Give me something—water—quick!” he muttered; and all was blank.