Home > Authors Index > George Manville Fenn > Syd Belton: The Boy who would not go to Sea > This page
Syd Belton: The Boy who would not go to Sea, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
||
Chapter 45 |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ Chapter Forty Five
A second gun rolled forth its summons, and, giving an order, the French officer led his men toward the lower battery, where about twenty were halted, and busied themselves in turning one of the guns, so that it was pointed toward the upper battery, while the rest went down over the wall. "What does it mean?" said Syd. "Are they going to blow us out of here?" "No," said Roylance, "I think not. It is to occupy the place and keep us at bay. I'd give something to see what it all means. We're so shut up here, and can see nothing," he said, fretfully. And it was so. They had a good view of the sea right out toward the town, but looking back they could see along the gap to their guns, which with the breastwork completely hid the landing-place. "I'd give something to know what it all means." "That gun meant the recall," said Roylance. "If I could get to the flagstaff," said Syd. "I think I could slip over at the back here," said Rogers; "climb along, and then crawl up." "No, no, my lad; you'd break your neck." "Oh, no, sir. You trust me." "He can climb like a monkey, sir," said another of the men, who was binding up a wound. "Then try," said Syd, after a glance upward to see that the French were not there. The man slipped over the back directly, and crept along a narrow ledge that made them all feel giddy, but he got along in safety, and then creeping and climbing to the left of the regular path he disappeared in a rift. "He'll do it now," said Roylance, who stood nursing one arm. "I say, Belt, as soon as you can I should be glad of a little help." "Yes, I'll come directly," said Sydney; "but where are our other fellows?" "All wounded or prisoners. The French have had the best of it this time. We shall be prisoners of war, lad." "I wouldn't care, only we've lost the place, Roylance. Oh, how could an English fellow be so treacherous!" "Don't know," said Roylance, dismally. "There always was something wrong with Mike Terry." "Ahoy!" came from above their heads; and they looked up to see that Rogers had reached the flagstaff, and had hauled up the British colours, which blew out in the morning air as a faint cheer came from the hospital, and an angry chattering from about the guns. "Sail ho! _Sirius_ in sight," shouted Rogers through his hands; "boat's gone back to the Frenchman. Hurray!" He was answered by a cheer from the little group about Syd, as three of the French sailors ran up at a trot, and began to mount the flagstaff path. "Look out, Rogers. Don't be taken." "Not I, sir. I'm coming back," shouted the sailor; and he disappeared, leaving the colours flying, and climbing back into the sturdy little work in time to join his companions in a loud groaning. For the French reached the top and hauled the British colours down, one of the enemy waving them derisively at the Englishmen, and throwing the flag over his shoulder as he laughed at them, and then carried it down to the battery, where his comrades had been strengthening their works toward the English position, one man standing ready with a port-fire to sweep the gap should there be an attack. Two hours' waiting ensued--two weary hours, with injuries growing stiff, wounds smarting, and a terrible feeling of thirst coming on. That was forgotten directly the heavy boom of a gun was heard, answered by another; and for a time, as report after report echoed among the rocks, the imprisoned party saw in imagination the _Sirius_ coming slowly up and attacking the French frigate, which answered with shot for shot. But it was most tantalising; and again and again Syd was for climbing up to the flagstaff to see what was going on, duty to the men alone keeping him to his post. Their patience was rewarded at last, for Roylance suddenly gave a cheer, which was taken up by the others, as they saw the French frigate, her sails dotted with shot-holes, forge into sight, firing hard the while. "Why, she's beaten--retreating," cried Sydney. "No, only manoeuvring," replied Roylance; "and, hurrah! my lads, here comes the _Sirius_." Syd's heart gave a leap as his father's noble frigate came slowly into sight round the south end of the gap, bringing with her a cloud of smoke which was rent and torn with flames of fire. For the next hour, there, a mile away, the frigates lay manoeuvring and exchanging their broadsides, neither appearing to get the upper hand. Two of the French officers were now up at the flagstaff, where they had hoisted their own colours, and they were eagerly watching the varying fortunes of the naval action, which, as far as the lookers-on could see, might result in the favour of either. The firing was terrific, and for the time being the occupants of the fort forgot their enmity in the excitement of the naval engagement going on. A wild shrill cheer suddenly rose from by the flagstaff, answered by a shout of defiance from the English battery, as all at once the mizzen-topmast of the _Sirius_ with its well-filled sails bowed over as if doubled-up; but the loss did not check the firing nor her way, and the shrill cheer was silenced. For in the midst of the French elation, and as the course of the frigate was changed so that she might cross the bows of the _Sirius_ and rake her, two more of the officers had gone up from by the guns, and were mounting the path to the flagstaff to participate in the triumph. They were in time to see the mainmast of the French frigate, already sorely wounded, yield to a puff of wind and go right over to leeward, leaving the beautiful ship helpless like a sea-bird with a broken wing. Captain Belton quickly took advantage of the position, raked the Frenchman from stem to stern, ran his own vessel close up under her quarter, and as the smoke rolled away a crowd of boarders were seen pouring over on to her decks, the shouts and cheering of the fighting reaching to the ears of the spectators. "We've taken her," cried Roylance, exultingly, and he was about to call upon the men to cheer when a look from Syd silenced him. "Quick, lads!" he whispered. "In two parties. I'll lead one, Mr Roylance the other. We'll divide and run down to the guns and take them before they know where they are. Hist, not a sound! Now!" The officers were still gazing directly away at the concluding episodes of the fight, so that only one was down at the battery, whose occupants were so taken by surprise, that before the junior lieutenant left had given the order to fire the Englishmen were half-way to them. Then as a cannon sent its charge of grape hurtling up the narrow pass, the two little parties cheered, dashed on, jumped over the rough wall cutlass in hand, and in less than a minute the place was once more in English hands. "More prisoners than we want," said Syd; but they were soon got rid of, being disarmed, and compelled to lower themselves down a rope to the foot of the great natural wall, where they were huddling together, a discontented-looking group, when Syd had taken the swords of the other French officers and sent the British colours flying once more from the flagstaff. The French lieutenant shrugged his shoulders as he handed his sword to Syd. "_Ah, vous anglais_!" he muttered, and then to one of his companions in French-- "It is of no use to try any longer. The men from the English frigate will be ashore directly. But to be beaten by that boy!" He was quite right. Before an hour had elapsed two well-manned boats from the _Sirius_ was at the landing-place to take possession and charge of the prisoners, while in another hour Syd was standing before his father, giving him an account of all that had been done. Captain Belton listened almost grimly to his son's narrative, and when he had finished-- "Well, sir," said the captain; "and what have you to say for yourself? You went ashore without leave. Of course you will be punished." "Yes, sir." "Where are Mr Roylance and Mr Terry?" "Ashore, sir, wounded both." "And Mr Dallas badly, I hear. Tut--tut--tut! and I have a terrible array of losses to confront here. Well, you have something else to say?" Syd was hesitating, for he had a painful duty to perform. Had he been the only holder of the knowledge of his messmate's treachery, he would have held his tongue: but it was known to all on shore, and he told everything. "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 ashore on one of the coral islands far out of the regular track of ships. There they had been ever since, till by clever scheming and indefatigable work, Captain Belton had got his frigate off, literally carving a little canal 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 shore 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 many wounded who filled the lower decks. 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 midshipman's face lit up, and he feebly raised his hand. "Better so," he said, in a faint whisper. "Good-bye." _ |
||