Syd Belton

"And on'y winged him arter all," cried the boatswain in his familiar gruff tones.

"Will you be quiet, boy?" cried Sydney, almost angrily now.

"Sit up, you swab," roared the boatswain; and Pan started into a sitting position on the instant. "You, Rogers, go up to the stores and get me three foot o' rope, thickest you can find.--Look ye here, Panny-mar," he continued, rolling up his sleeve and holding out his enormous fist close to the boy's nose, "see that?"

"Yes, father."

"You turned yerself into a stowaway and comed ash.o.r.e without leave; you've been turning yerself into a bear and a monkey, and living in the holes o' the rocks by day, and coming out and stealing the prog by night."

"I was so hungry, father," whispered Pan, who forgot his wound.

"Yah! hungry indeed! And then you've been giving your father the worsest quarter of a hour he ever had in his life, and making his heart bust with haggerny. You shammed dead at first, then you made believe as you was hurt, when there was nothing the matter with yer but a little bit of a hole through one arm."

"Oh!" moaned Pan, turning his eyes upon his white arm, where a bead of blood was visible.

"And then you kicked out as if all your upper rigging was shattered with chain-shot, and every kick went right through me. So now, look here: your young captain's going to bandage that there bit o' nothing up, and if you give so much as one squeak, you'll have my fist fust and the rope's-end arter till you dance such a hornpipe as never was afore."

"Oh!" moaned Pan.

"Ah!"

There was silence for a moment, and then all present burst into a roar of laughter, so great was the relief that the boy was not very bad.

"Ah, you may laugh, my lads," said the boatswain, looking round; "but I do declare I'd sooner have a leg off with a shot than go through all that again. Thought I'd shot him."

"So you did, father," cried Pan, with a vicious look.

"Yah! Hold your tongue! Call that shot? No more than having a sail-needle slip and go through yer."

"But it hurts like red-hot poker."

"Good job too. Nothing to what you made me feel as I see yer lying there.--Lying! Yes, that's the word, for yer did lie, yer shamming young swab."

Pan began to cry silently, as Syd busied himself bandaging his hurt.

"And now he's a piping his eye like a great gal on Sh.o.r.eport Hard.

Panny-mar, I'm proud o' you, I am; but I feel that bad, Mr Belton, sir, that I'd take it kindly if you'd order me a tot o' rum."

"Take him up and give him one, Mr Roylance," said Sydney, quickly; and while he went on

"Thankye, sir," said Strake, holding out one of his great gnarled hands for the tin, but drawing it back, for it trembled so that he could not take the rum; but he turned sharply round, laid his arm against the rock, and laid his face upon it, to stand so for some minutes before he turned back, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand.

"Bit watery, sir, that's all," he said, with a smile. "Don't tell Mr Belton, sir, what you see. Most men got their soft bit somewhere. I dunno, though. I've knowed Master Syd from a babby, and I wouldn't mind if you told he; but pray don't say a word before Mr Mike Terry.

Thankye, sir.--Hah! That's good rum, as I well knows. Here's success to yer, sir, and may you never know what it is to be a father." With which doubtful wish the boatswain drained the tin and smacked his lips.

"Well, sir, since you are so kind, I--No, put it away, my lad. No more to-night."

The rum was replaced, and they rejoined the group near the lower gun, just as the finis.h.i.+ng touches were being given to Pan's wound by means of a handkerchief being tied loosely about his neck to act as a sling.

"Got that bit o' rope, lad?" said the boatswain, and then, "Thankye," as it was handed to him. "Beg pardon, sir, ought this here boy to have his fust dose to-night or to-morrer morning?"

"Not till I prescribe it, Strake," said Syd, smiling, and the old man coiled up the piece of rope and put it in his pocket, very much to Pan's relief.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

"And where have you been?" said Syd next day, after examining his second patient's injury.

"Down in a big hole yonder," said the boy. "It's on'y a sort o' crack, but as soon as you gets through there's plenty o' room; and when I'd got a blanket and a bit o' sail to sleep on, it beat the straw corner up in the tater-loft at home all to nothing, on'y I was getting very tired o'

nearly always biscuit. I say, Master Sydney, sir, you won't let father give me the rope's-end will you?"

"You deserve it for smuggling yourself on sh.o.r.e."

"Didn't you smuggle yourself ash.o.r.e too, sir?" said Pan, innocently.

Sydney and Roylance exchanged glances, and went to see how Mr Dallas was getting on.

The morning had broken bright and fine, the wind had gone down, though the sea was still fretting and breaking on the rocky islet; but the high spirits in which the lads were became damped directly as they stood gazing down at the wreck of the fine handsome man lying there before them, hovering as it were between life and death.

"I wouldn't care, Roy," said Syd, "if I could only do anything but attend to those wretched bandages."

"You do a good deal," was the reply.

"Oh, it seems like nothing. One gets no further, and I always go in to see him feeling as if it was for the last time."

Partly to get rid of his painful thoughts Sydney worked hard with the men till everything possible under the circ.u.mstances had been done.

Rocks had been s.h.i.+fted, breastworks built, and the place was so added to, that if an enemy should come, the scaling of the cliff over the landing-place and capture of the lower gun did not mean defeat. There was quite a little fort to attack half-way up the gap, and then there was a stout wall built across behind the second gun, which could be slewed round ready for an attack from the land side.

Two mornings later, just after Sydney had been again combining the duties of surgeon and commander, Strake came up to him.

"Going to order that boy a rope's-ending now, sir?" he said.

"Not yet, Strake."

"Done with him, sir?"

"Yes."

"Then I'd like a word with you in private."

The privacy consisted in a walk to the upper gun, where, after a look round in the calm sunlit sea in search of the frigate, the boatswain said--

"Enemy's here, sir."

"Where?" cried Syd, excitedly, looking out to sea again. "I was up at the flagstaff an hour ago, and Mr Terry's there now. He has not given the alarm."

"Didn't look in the right place," said the boatswain, oracularly. "I did."