Syd Belton

"Go now," said the father, "I am too busy to say more. You can stay on board; I will give orders for a fresh party to occupy the rock."

Syd thought his father might have forgotten the captain a little more at their encounter, and given him a word of praise; but he smothered his feelings, and joined his messmates in the gun-room, for the middies'

quarters were horribly occupied just then by the doctors.

He had stared aghast at the shattered aspect of the deck and rigging, and seen that the French frigate was no better, and then learned that which he was longing to hear.

It was a simple matter; the gale they had felt on the rock had grown into a hurricane outside, and in the midst of it both the _Sirius_ and her consort were cast ash.o.r.e on one of the coral islands far out of the regular track of s.h.i.+ps.

There they had been ever since, till by clever scheming and indefatigable work, Captain Belton had got his frigate off, literally carving a little ca.n.a.l for her from where she lay to the open water.

For his consort was a hopeless wreck, and he had the help of a second crew.

As soon as they were clear, Captain Belton made sail for the rock again, to arrive only just in time.

The wreck had given him one advantage, though: he had the crews of both frigates on board, and several extra guns which he had saved.

It was nearly dark when the boat from the sh.o.r.e arrived with the wounded and the remnant of the brave defenders of the rock, and a warm welcome was accorded them; the two little middies, Bolton and Jenkins, who had nearly gone mad over Syd, seeming to complete the process with Roylance, who got away from them as soon as possible to draw Sydney aside.

"Seen him?" he said, in a low tone.

"Whom--Mr Dallas? Yes."

"No, no; Terry."

"No; nor do I want to."

"Yes; go and see him, poor wretch."

"If I do he'll accuse me of being the cause of all his trouble."

"No, no; I've shaken hands with him."

"Shaken hands?"

"Why not? My father is a clergyman. I want to recollect something of what he taught me."

"But with a man like that, even if he is wounded?"

"But, poor fellow! he's dying."

"What!" cried Syd.

"Don't you know?"

Syd shook his head. He felt half suffocated.

"In that last scuffle when we took back the battery, he was one of the fellows we drove over the side. I didn't know it then. No one did till he was picked up from where he crouched. The doctor has gone to him now."

Syd hurried away, and after a time was able to find his old messmate lying where he had been left by the surgeon, side by side with one of the

There was a lanthorn swinging overhead, and Syd started as he saw the ghastly change in the young man's countenance.

He could not think of enmity or treachery at such a moment as that, but went close up.

"Terry," he said, "I'm sorry it has come to this."

The mids.h.i.+pman's face lit up, and he feebly raised his hand.

"Better so," he said, in a faint whisper. "Good-bye."

CHAPTER FORTY SIX.

They knew in the mids.h.i.+pman's little company that night how Michael Terry had died, and the frank-hearted lads joined in saying they were glad he had died from his fall, and not from a wound given by an English blade. And somehow, though it was known to all now, not a voice uttered a word about his treachery. The terrible fate that had overtaken him had come as a veil over all that.

For the next few days, as they lay there to leeward of the rock, Syd and Roylance used to look up at the colours flying from the flagstaff, and feel something like regret that they were no longer living in the gap; but there was endless work to do. The captain had transferred his less fortunate brother officer and crew to the French frigate, and on board both vessels the knotting, splicing, and repairing that went on was enormous, while the carpenters and their mates had the busiest of times.

One of the first things done after hospital tents had been rigged up in the gap, was for all the wounded to be transferred to the sh.o.r.e; the garrison was strengthened, provisions and stores landed, a surgeon put in charge, and the _Sirius_ with the prize set sail for the nearest British possession to land their prisoners.

In a week they were back off the rock, and after communications, sailed on for Saint Jacques; the French frigate, in spite of being minus one mast, making fair way under the jury spar set up, and, thanks to the vigorous efforts made in the way of repairs, in excellent fighting trim, and with her crew eager to make up in the end for the loss of their own s.h.i.+p.

Syd had been out of the naval engagement, but he was now to witness a bold attack made upon a fortified port--a successful attack, the batteries being pretty well demolished, and the force of sailors and marines that was landed carrying all before them, so that in one short day the British flag waved over the town of Saint Jacques, and the island of La Haute became one of the possessions of the British Crown.

After refitting, the _Sirius_ did good work in the western seas for two years before she was ordered home, where upon the captain landing at Sh.o.r.eport, it was known that he was promoted to the command of a line-of-battle s.h.i.+p, while sundry honours were ready for his officers, notably for Mr Dallas, who had long been well and strong.

"Yes, Strake," said Roylance, "promotion for every one but the poor mids.h.i.+pman."

"Wait a bit, sir, wait a bit," said the bronzed old fellow. "'Tain't fault o' gover'ment, but fault o' natur'. Soon as you and Mr Belton here grows big enough you'll be lufftenants, and then captains; and if that swab of a boy of mine minds his eye he'll be a bo'sun."

"You'll lay up now, I suppose?" said Roylance.

"Me, sir? me lay up?" cried the boatswain, indignantly. "Not the man.

No, sir, I hope to sail yet with young Capen Belton when the old capen's a admiral, as he's sure to be afore long."

"Seems a long time to wait for promotion," said Syd.

"Awful, sir, to a young gent who has only been two years at sea. But-- whish, sir! Look!"

Syd, who was leaning over the side with Roylance, gazing at the town, started with pleasure, for in the stern-sheets of the barge, which was coming back from sh.o.r.e with the captain, who was returning to take leave of his officers before quitting the _Sirius_ for good, was the grey-whiskered, florid face of Admiral Belton.

He came on board, bowing to the salutes given him, and then looking round sharply, he exclaimed--

"Now then, where's that doctor?"

"Here, uncle," cried Syd, merrily.

"Why! Well! Hang the boy, I shouldn't have known you. You have grown!

Shake hands, you dog! I'm proud of you. I know all about it. I say,"

he said with a chuckle, "don't want to be a doctor now, eh?"