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Syd Belton: The Boy who would not go to Sea, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 30 |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY. It was strange work keeping that watch, and Syd could not help feeling a sensation of dread master him at times. He knew that Roylance was close at hand, that he had but to speak and the old boatswain would come to him, while the men were scattered here and there; but all the same it was terribly lonely. For what were they watching? It might be some wild beast with teeth and claws that would rend him if he were the one who seized it, and the longer he waited the more reasonable this seemed to be. It was a creature that lived in a cave, or some deep rift among the rocks by day, and came prowling out by night in search of food. Such a creature as this must be dangerous. But the next moment he laughed to himself as he recalled that rabbits and many other creatures sought their food by night, and were innocent and harmless as doves. Yet still the feeling of dread came back, and he longed for an end of the watch. "I like danger that I can see," he thought, as he began involuntarily rubbing his shoulder that had been struck by the shark, and had taken to aching in the moist cool night. He shivered a little as he recalled the scene that day when he first realised the danger of the hideous fish marking him down; and try how he would the scene kept growing more vivid. "I never half thanked those men for saving my life," he said to himself. "The brute would have had me if they had not stabbed at it with the oars. What's that?" He strained his eyes to watch something which appeared to be crawling along among the blocks of stone close by, but he could not be sure that it was anything alive. "A stone!" he said, and he went on thinking, not liking to draw attention to what most likely was only imagination. "It would be so stupid," he said; "and would alarm the brute and keep it from coming, if I was wrong." So he sat there, crouched up together, his back against the stone, and his arms round his knees, which formed a resting-place for his chin, till quite a couple of hours of watching and listening to the roar of the wind overhead and the beat of the sea beneath had passed away. "I wonder how Mr Dallas is," he thought at last; and as the scene in the rough canvas-covered shelter came to his mind's eye, with the tallow candle stuck in a corner of the rock, some of its own fat sealing it there, as they had no candlestick, he saw again the sunken cheeks and wild, fevered eyes of the wounded man, and pictured his white, cracked lips, and the tin pannikin of water placed ready on a box by where he lay. There was some biscuit too, ready to soak and give him a few bits. He thought--"I wonder whether that man has given him any." Another half-hour passed, during which Syd had forgotten everything but his patient, and at last, full of anxiety, he felt that he must go and see him. "No, I will not," he muttered, and he began watching again. "How contented these sailors are," he said after a time; "how silently they sit keeping guard. I hope they are not asleep." He crept softly in the direction where Strake was posted, and as he neared it he thought to himself that it was a good job he had told the boatswain not to bring firearms; but as the thought came he oddly enough regretted it. "If the brute is dangerous it is not fair to the men. I was wrong. But they must be all asleep, or they would have heard me." Click, click! The cocking of a pistol close by. "Strake! Don't shoot." "You, Master Syd!" growled the boatswain, "I thought it was that there bear. Why, you shouldn't come crawling up like that, sir, I might have shot at you." "But I told you not to bring pistols." "So you did, sir; but as I thought as the brute might stick his teeth into me, I felt as you wouldn't like me to be hurt, and so I brought 'em. You see, sir, you've only got one bo'sun, and it would be awkward if I was killed." "Look here," whispered Syd, "I'm going up to see how Mr Dallas is. Don't make a mistake and fire at me as I come back." "Don't you be scared about that, sir," growled the boatswain; "I'll take care." "Are the men all awake?" "Trust 'em, sir. They've got open eyes." "I shall not be long," said Syd. "Right, sir." "And be careful with that pistol, Strake. You may use it, though, if there is danger." "Thankye, sir," said the boatswain, and then to himself, "I'll use both sooner than have my eyes clawed out, and my nose chawed off." Syd crept quietly along among the high blocks of rock which dotted the chasm, gazing up at the quivering stars once and wishing they gave more light, and thinking of what shelter these rocks would give if the French ever did attack them and were in such numbers that they took the lower gun, and came swarming along into the gap. "We could keep them off after all, I dare say," he said. By this time he was close up to the rough shelter which the men had dubbed the hospital. Drawing aside the canvas hung down over the doorway, he was about to step in when there was a rush, the candle was knocked down, and by its feeble glimmer, where it lay on the rocky floor, he caught a glimpse of something dark which rushed at him, drove him backwards, and disappeared in the darkness. "You stupid idiot!" cried Syd, in a loud whisper. "Frightened him, I suppose, going in so quickly." He once more stepped into the rough place, to see with astonishment the sailor who had been placed there to relieve Roylance, in the act of picking up the candle from where it lay flickering on the floor. "Tumbled down, sir," said the man, confusedly. "Tumbled down!" cried Sydney, in an angry whisper; "why, you lazy rascal, you were asleep!" "Sleep, sir?" "Yes. Who was that in here just now?" "Here, sir; and banged out o' the door there! Wasn't it you?" "No--no," whispered Syd, who grasped the position now; "it must have been that beast we are trying to catch. Yes; he has taken the biscuit that lay there while you slept." "Very sorry, sir; been hard at work, and--" Sydney heard no more. He had dashed out of the canvas-covered hut and run swiftly down toward the lower gun. "Look out, Roylance! Strake!" he shouted; "it's coming your way." _Bang_! A pause as the shot echoed among the rocks. Then there was another report, and a wild cry. Then silence, broken directly after by the muttering of men's voices. "Got it," cried Syd. "Yes; Strake has brought it down. It came with a rush between us, and he fired, and then fired again." "Yes, I heard. What is it--a bear?" "Don't know; we want a candle. I'll fetch the one from Mr Dallas's place and shade it with my hat." Roylance went on toward the hospital, while Sydney cautiously felt his way among the rocks, full of excitement and eagerness to learn what the strange creature might be. "Hi! where are you?" he shouted. "This way, sir," answered a voice, which he recognised as that of Rogers. He hurried on, the shout coming from close by the lower gun, and as he reached the spot he made out the group of figures, and heard the boatswain's gruff voice groaning out-- "Oh, lor'! Oh, lor'! Oh, lor'!" Then in angry tones--"It sarved you right. No business carrying on games like that." "What's the matter?" cried Syd. "Is any one hurt? Haven't you shot the bear?" "It warn't no bear, sir," said Rogers, excitedly; "it was young Pan Strake, and his father's brought him down." _ |
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