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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 41 |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY ONE. Treachery or only spite, which could it be? Syd felt a sensation of cold running through him as he raised the glass again and watched the frigate, for he felt that perhaps after all he might have been mistaken, and the sailor lying by him too. Terry was an officer and a gentleman. He had a horrible temper; he was as jealous and overweening as could be, but it seemed impossible that he could so degrade himself as to be guilty of an act that was like a betrayal of his brother officers and the men. But it was no mistake as far as the frigate was concerned. She had rounded to, her sails were beginning to flap, and amidst the scene of bustle on deck a boat was lowered, and the next minute it was seen gliding away from the vessel's side, filled by a smart crew whose oars seemed to be splashing up golden water as the sun sank and got more round. There were two officers in the stern, and now and then something flashed which looked like weapons, and a second glance showed that they were the swords of the officers and the guns of the marines. "We are seen, sure enough," said Syd. "Be ready with the colours, Rogers," he added aloud. "Hoist them the moment you hear me shout." "Ay, ay, sir. But it may only be a bit o' _parley voo_, and no fighting arter all." "I hope not," thought Syd, as he hurried down the rift, avoiding Terry's work, and making straight for the lieutenant's quarters, where he flinched from telling of Terry's actions, and contented himself by saying what he had seen. "Well, Mr Belton," said the lieutenant, with a slight flush coming into his pale face, "you are a King's officer in command, but you know the captain's wishes; and, boy as you are, sir, you must do what we all do under such trying circumstances--act like a man." "And--" Syd ceased speaking, and asked the remainder of his question with his eyes. "Yes, sir, fire upon them, if necessary. If that boat is from a French man-of-war, her men must not land." Syd drew in a long breath, nodded shortly, and was going out without a word. "Stop!" cried the lieutenant. "Take off that plaything, my dear lad, and buckle on my sword. That's right, take up a hole or two in the belt as you go. Here's a motto for your crest when you sport one, '_Belton_--_Belt on_'! Now God bless you, my lad! Do your duty for your own and your father's sake." There was a quick grasp of the hand, and Syd ran out, fastening on the sword-belt as he went, and feeling rather a curious sensation in the throat as he mentally exclaimed--"I will." The men were lying down by the breastwork of the lower gun as he trotted over the slope, and to his surprise he found the boatswain seated on a piece of stone with his face puckered up, watching Pan whom he had just sent up to the magazine. "Well: what news?" said Roylance, eagerly. "Are they gone?" Every eye was fixed on Syd, as he replied-- "No; a boat is coming ashore, and they must make for here. We can hear what they have to say, but they must not land." A thrill seemed to run through the men, who lay ready to jump up and work the gun, and at a glance Sydney saw that their arms were all ready, and half the men were stripped for action. "It is a French frigate?" said Roylance. "Yes." "Then who is to talk to them? Can you?" "I know the French I learned at school." "Well, I know that much," said Roylance. "I can make them understand, but I don't know about understanding them." "Begging your pardon, gentlemen," said Strake, with a grim smile, "you needn't trouble 'bout that 'ere. I've got a friend here as there isn't a Frenchy afloat as don't understand." "Whom do you mean, Strake?" said Syd, as he looked sharply at the boatswain. "This here, sir," he said, patting the breech of the cannon. "On'y let her open her mouth and bellow; they'll know it means keep off." The men laughed. "Is the gun loaded?" "Yes, sir, with a round shot; but I've got grape and canister ready." This began to look like grim warfare, and Syd stood there waiting in silence, and gazing out seaward for the coming of the boat. From the little battery the extent visible was rather limited, for the rock rose up high to right and left. The French frigate was right behind them, plain to be seen from the upper gun, the steep slope downward shutting it out from the lower. A full half-hour glided by, but there was no sign of the enemy, and the men lay waiting with the sun now beating full upon them with such power that the rock grew almost too hot to touch. "If they don't look sharp and come," said Strake, moving the lantern he had with him more into the shade, "my candle here will melt into hyle, and that there gun 'ill begin to speak French without being touched." "Surely the sun has not power enough to light the charge, Strake." "Well, sir, I never knowed it done yet," said the boatswain, dubiously. Another quarter of an hour passed away, and Roylance exclaimed-- "Can there be any other place where they could land?" "No," said Syd, "I feel sure not." "Then why are they so long?" "Don't know the rock, and they are rowing to search all round for a place, the same as we did." Still the long-drawn-out space of time went slowly, and doubts began to intrude which made Syd glance anxiously up to right and left, as he thought how helpless they would be should they be taken in rear or flank. "Make a good fight for it all the same," said Roylance, who read his looks. "But I don't see how they could land anywhere round the rock without men on the cliff top to help them." "Terry would not do that," thought Syd, and he glanced sharply round to gaze above him at the upper gun. He blushed at the thought, as he saw the young officer there, evidently engaged in looking out to sea. "Think the man up yonder by the flagstaff can see them?" said Roylance, after another weary wait. Sydney shook his head. "I say, oughtn't we to hoist the colours, Belton?" "Rogers will run them up when I make him a signal. We don't want to challenge them to fight, only to defend the rock against all comers." "Gettin' hungry, mate?" whispered one of the men to the lad next him. "No: why?" "'Cause this side o' me's 'most done." There was a laugh. "Silence!" cried Syd, and then in the same breath, "Here they are!" For the bows of the frigate's boat, which had been right round the rock, suddenly appeared from the left with one of the officers standing up in the stern-sheets; and as they came on he suddenly pointed toward the natural pier, and the men, who had just been dipping their oars lightly, gave way. As they came on the party in the little battery could see the French officers searching the opening with their eyes, and eagerly talking together; but they did not hesitate, apparently not realising that the place had been put in a state of defence, for the gun was drawn back, and the embrasure was of so rugged a construction that it did not resemble the production of a military engineer. They ran their boat close alongside of the little pier, and one of the officers was about to spring out, when Syd shouted forth deeply as he could, as he stood on the breastwork. "Hallo!" The officer looked up sharply, smiled, waved his hand, gave an order to the sailors in the boat, and a dozen well-armed men sprang out. "_Halte_!" shouted Syd again. "_Aha_!" cried the French officer, leading his men forward. "_Nous sommes des amis_." "Oh, _etes-vous_?" cried Syd. "I dare say you are, but you can't land here. Back to your boat. _Allez-vous-en_!" "_Mais non_!" said the French officer politely, and he still came on, smiling. "This rock belong to his Britannic Majesty, the King of England. _Waistcoat a nous, Monsieur. Allez-vous-en_." "_Mais non_," said the French officer. "_En avant_!" "_Nous allons donner le feu_--Fire at you--Fire!" shouted Syd, and he leaped backward into the fort perfectly astounded. For Strake did not understand French, but he thoroughly comprehended English, and as he heard his commanding officer say _fire_! and then more loudly, _fire_! he clapped his slow match to the touch-hole of the cannon, whose mouth was about a foot from the embrasure; there was a burst of flame and smoke, a deafening roar which threatened to bring down the rocks to right and left, and as Syd looked through the smoke he could see the French officer and his men running back to the boat. "Strake, you shouldn't have fired," he cried, excitedly. "You give orders," growled the boatswain; "and there was no time to haim. Shot went skipping out to sea.--Be smart, my lads," he continued, as the men who had sprung to their places wielded sponge and rammer, and this time ran the gun out so that its muzzle showed over the rough parapet. By this time Syd had made a sign, and Rogers quickly ran the colours up the flagstaff, where they were blown out fully by the breeze. "Don't find fault," whispered Roylance, wiping the tears from his eyes. "What a game! See that little French officer fall down?" "No." "He caught his foot in a stone. Look at them now." Syd looked down at where on the pier the French officers were gesticulating and talking loudly; the gist of their debate being, should they try to take the battery or put off, and the majority seemed to be in favour of the latter proceeding. For as they eagerly scanned the little battery they could see now the frowning muzzle of the gun, and the heads of a number of English sailors apparently ready to fire again, this time probably with better effect. One officer seemed to be for coming on. The other thought evidently that discretion was the better part of valour, for he looked up at the colours on the flagstaff, then down at the battery, and then finally gave orders to the men to re-embark. But this was too much for the spirit of the other, who after a few sharp words took out a white handkerchief, tied it to the blade of his sword, and held it up, advancing with it in his hand till he was just below the gun, and at the foot of the cliff wall. "Messieurs," he said, politely, "I speak not ze Angleesh as you do. I you make me understand?" "_Oui_--yes," said Syd, who had again mounted the rough wall. "It is good," said the French officer. "You make fire upon us. Yes?" "Yes; we fired." "You--you teach me yourself, vat ze diable you make here?" "We hold this place as a possession of the King of England," replied Sydney. "Can you understand?" "_Parfaitement_, sare. Zen I tell you I go back to my sheep, and me come and blow you all avay. _Au revoir_!" "_Au revoir_, Monsieur," said Syd, exchanging bows with the French officer, who went back to the boat, sprang on board, the men pushed off, and the little garrison gave them a cheer. "Thank goodness that's over," said Syd, taking off his hat to wipe his brow, as he leaped back into the battery. "Over?" said Roylance, "not till they have been back and blown us all away." "Beg pardon, sir," said the boatswain, "but I 'member now nuff of my old work years ago to be able to send a round shot right through that there boat, if you'll give the word." "No, no, Strake.--There, you keep your men ready in case they do come back, Roy," whispered Syd; "I'll go up and report matters to Mr Dallas." _ |
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