Chapter 44

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_ Chapter Forty Four

The night was brilliant starlight, and the strictest watch was kept, but hour after hour went by, and there was not a sound; no dark shadow creeping over the water from the frigate, which lay anchored, with her lights showing reflections on the smooth sea.

Everything was in readiness to give the enemy a good reception if they came, and in spite of his weakness, the boatswain rose from where he lay on a folded-up sail beside one of the heaps of ball, to see if the light in the lanthorn by his head was burning, and handy for the slow matches to fire the guns.

"That there swab has gone down into his old hole by the water, sir, so as to save his skin," said Strake, on one of the occasions when Syd was going his rounds, "and here he might be o' no end of use saving his poor father. You won't say I arn't to use the rope's-end arter this, sir."

"Hadn't you better go up to the hospital and lie down, Strake?" replied Syd; "you are tired out."

"So are you, sir: so's all on us. But if I went and had a caulk just when the enemy might come, what should I say arterwards when I met the skipper?"

"But your injuries are such as sent you into hospital."

"Where I warn't going to stay, sir. Been up to the flagstaff, sir?"

"I have just come from there, and I have been with Mr Roylance, and had a talk with Mr Dallas. All's well."

"Seems well, Mr Syd, sir," whispered the boatswain, so as not to be heard by the men; "but I'm sure all aren't well. They're trying to dodge us, sir, and you see if they don't come and board us just afore daylight, when they think we're asleep. Tell them chaps at the look-out to keep their eyes open, and be on the kwe weave, as the Frenchies call it, for boats sneaking up in the dark. You've got two there."

"Yes, Strake, and each man has a glass, and those very instructions."

"What a horficer he will make," muttered the boatswain; and then the watch went on, with the men peering through the transparent darkness at the waves heaving over the little natural pier, and the bright stars broken up into spangles on the smooth surface of the sea.

"Rather queer about Terry," said Roylance in a whisper, as Syd joined him where he was leaning over the rough parapet, watching the surface for the first sign of the enemy.

"Very," said Syd.

"I can't understand it."

"I can," thought Syd, as he recalled what he had seen; and in the full belief that his messmate was heartily ashamed of his treacherous conduct of the previous day, he went softly up to find the lieutenant sleeping peacefully. He stood looking at him for a few moments, and then went up to the empty battery, to stand looking down over the precipice, before gazing up towards the flagstaff.

"All well, Rogers?" he said in a low, distinct voice.

"All well, sir," came back from far on high. "Nothing left the ship. We could ha' seen by the broken water. It brimes to-night, and we should have seen their oars stirring the water up."

Note: "brimes" means "is phosphorescent."

Syd went thoughtfully back, feeling so exhausted and drowsy that twice over he stumbled, and shook his head to get rid of the sleepy feeling, for it had been a terribly trying and anxious time.

"I'll go and talk to Strake," he said to himself; and pulling out a biscuit, he began to nibble it to take off the sensation of faintness from which he suffered, as he began wondering whether the French would attack them that night, or come prepared the next day with ladders to scale the natural wall which was their chief defence.

"All well, Strake?" he said, as he reached the place again where the boatswain was lying down.

"Ay, ay, sir."

"Halt! who goes there?"

"On'y me," cried a hoarse, excited voice, in a whisper, accompanied by a panting noise. "Where's father?"

"What, Pan-y-mar?" growled the boatswain. "Just you come here, you ugly-looking young swab."

"Hush, father!" whispered the boy, coming out of the darkness. "Give's a cutlash; the French is coming."

"What? Where?" said Syd, eagerly. "To your guns, my lads."

"No, no," cried the boy, in a hurried whisper. "Not that way; they're coming over the top there."

"He's been dreaming," growled the boatswain. "What d'yer mean, you dog?"

"I arn't been asleep," cried Pan, angrily; "and I'm so hungry."

"Tell me: what do you mean?" cried Syd.

"I've been a-watching o' Mr Terry, sir. He went down on the rocks over yonder, and I lay down and see him make signs to the French ship, and two boats come out and rowed in close to where he was a-hiding down in one o' them big cracks like I hid in and found the water."

"Yes; go on," whispered Syd, whose heart sank with apprehension.

"And he talked to 'em, and they talked to him, and then rowed back to the French ship."

"What did they say?"

"I dunno; I was too far off to hear."

"Well, go on."

"I thought he was up to some game, and I lay there and watched him, and I've been watching of him ever since, till to-night he crawled into the stores, after hiding all yes' afternoon and to-night, and I see him come creeping out again with a rope, and he put it over his shoulder. And then he climbed up one o' those cracks, and I went arter him, and he got right out there past the water-hole, and then crep' all along till he got to the place where you hauled Mr Roylance and t'other sailor up with a rope. And I crep' up close as I could, and lay there watching him hours till three boats come round from the other side, and then Mr Terry tied the end of the rope round a big block, and let the other end down, and I see a French sailor come up, and then another, and another, and they let down more rope, and they're all climbed up, and they're coming right up yonder over the top by the flag-post."

"How do you know?"

"'Cos I come that way first, and they was all coming close up arter me all the time, and I had to come on my hands and knees."

"Why didn't you come the other way, and give the alarm in front?"

"'Cos they've got lots o' fellows there with swords and pistols. I heard 'em cock."

"Yah! it's all a fancy," growled Strake; "he's scared, and dreamed it."

"I didn't," cried the boy.

"Couldn't climb up there," growled Strake.

"Yes, they could, Strake," cried Syd, excitedly. "Once they were on the rock they could climb up, and--yes, they'd come over by the flagstaff."

"I tell yer the young swab dreamt it."

"Ahoy! help!"

_Bang! bang! Bang! bang_!--Pistol-shots from high up by the flagstaff; and as the men seized their cutlasses and pistols, and, with Syd and Roylance at their head, advanced up the gap to meet this treacherous attack from the rear, there was the clash of steel, the sounds of struggling, then a momentary silence, followed by a few sharp orders, and the rattling noise of stones told that a strong party of men were coming down the rough path from the flagstaff.

"Forward, my lads!" cried Roy lance; "we may beat them back."

The men gave a cheer, and advanced quickly, the excitement of all taking them from the battery, which was left defenceless.

As they advanced, the old feeling of terror that he had always felt when about to engage in a school-fight was for a few moments in Sydney's breast; then the eager excitement carried all away, and, sword in hand, he ran on with his men.

Directly after there was the shock and confusion of the two parties meeting, with stray shots, the clatter of sword against sword, with sparks flying in the darkness, and the shouts and cheers of contending men.

What he did Syd never knew, for everything was centred in the one idea that he was leading his father's men, and that he must try and be brave. And if being brave meant rushing on with them right at the descending Frenchmen, he was brave enough.

So vigorous was the rush, and so desperate were the little English party at being surprised in so sudden a fashion, that the first group of the enemy were driven backward toward the path by which they had climbed down. But more and more were hurrying from above to their help, the officers threw themselves to the front, and the flight was stayed, while quite a series of single combats began to take place.

"Give it 'em, boys! Old England for ever!" was yelled out in the darkness, close by to where Syd was cutting and thrusting at an active little Frenchman. Then there came a groan, and the same voice said hoarsely--

"Oh, if I had my strength!"

"Hurrah, boys! they're giving way!" shouted Roylance. "Keep together, and over with them."

For in spite of the bravery of their officers, the French were yielding ground once more, and being slowly driven up the narrowing path. But there was a fresh burst of cheering, the hurry of feet, and about twenty of the French frigate's crew, who had taken advantage of the little garrison being attacked from the rear, and crept up to the cliff wall to scale it with a spar, one man going up with a rope which he had secured to a gun, soon turned the tables again.

With enemies before and behind triple their strength, and taking them in each case so thoroughly by surprise, the _melee_ did not last long. Syd was conscious of seeing sparks after what seemed to be a loud clap of thunder above his head, and the next thing he knew was that Roylance was saying--

"Belt, lad, do, do try and speak."

"Speak? yes," he faltered. "What's the matter?"

"Matter! don't ask."

"But what does it mean? Where are we? Has Terry won?"

"My poor old fellow, you haven't been fighting Terry--yes, you have--a coward! he is with the French."

"And--" cried Syd, sitting up, "are we beaten?"

"Yes! no!" cried Roylance. "They're all down or prisoners--but eight of us here."

"Where are we?" said Syd, who felt sick and dizzy.

"Up in the little top battery, and they're coming on again. Stand by, lads!"

Syd rose to his feet as the men cheered, and stood with his sword hanging by the knot to his wrist, holding on by the rough stone wall, looking over into the starlit gloom at a body of French sailors apparently about to attack. Just then an officer stepped forward, and said, cheerily--

"_Rendez-vous, mes braves. Parlez, vous_!" he continued, turning to some one at his side.

"Here, you there!--the French officer says it's no use to fight any longer; he has taken the place, so give up."

"Terry!" cried Roylance; "you miserable traitor!" and the men around burst into a loud groan, and hooted the renegade.

"Yes, traitor!" cried Syd, excitedly; and forgetting his wound, "coward!"

"Coward yourself!" cried Terry. "Do you think I was going to stay in a service which compelled men to serve under a contemptible boy like you? Here, my lads, it's no use to resist. Give up, and you will have good treatment as prisoners. Come out."

"Do you hear, lads?" cried Roylance. "Will you do as the new English-French deserter says?"

"No!" roared the men; and Rogers' voice rose above them--"Say, lads, it's yard-arm for a desarter, eh?"

"Yes."

Terry turned away savagely, and they saw him saying something to the French officer--saw him dimly, as it seemed, then more plainly, for day was breaking with the rapidity of the change in the tropics; and as a movement took place, they all knew that a final assault was to be given, and must go against them.

Then the spirit of Syd's family seemed to send a flush through him; he forgot his pain, the sickness passed off, and he turned to gaze on the torn and blood-stained men about him.

"French and English," he cried, raising his sword.

"Hurray!" shouted the brave fellows; and every cutlass flashed as they prepared to defend their tiny stronghold, built up for the very emergency in which they were.

"_Rendez, messieurs_!" shouted the French officer, half appealingly.

"_Non, non_!" shouted Sydney, excitedly.

"_En avant_!" rang out the order, and with a rush the men came on in the rapidly increasing morning light.

At that moment the rocks echoed and quivered as a heavy gun thundered forth. _

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