It was very hot, and there was heavy breathing all around, but not another sound, so feeling once more that it would be impossible to sleep, and that he might as well be on guard, Syd kept his vigil for quite five minutes, and then, as was perfectly natural, went off fast asleep again, to lie until it seemed to him that there was a crash of thunder, and then all was blank.

"Here, hi! Sentry! Bring a lantern. It's a mean, cowardly act, and I'll complain to the first lieutenant."

The roar of laughter which had been going on, mingled with comments, ceased at this, and was succeeded by a low buzzing sound, which seemed to Syd to be close to his ears as he saw a dim light, felt horribly sleepy, and as if his head ached violently.

"It's too bad. The other was only a game. The poor fellow's head's cut and bleeding, and whoever did this is a mean-spirited coward, and no gentleman."

"Shall I go and rouse up the doctor, sir?"

"No; we'll bind it up, and keep it all quiet. There'd be no end of trouble if the captain knew. I only wish I knew who did it, cutting a fellow down by the head like this."

Syd tried to speak, but he was like one in a dream.

"If I knew who it was—" said Roylance.

"What would you do?" said a voice, which Syd seemed to recognise; "go and tell his daddy?"

"No; I'd tell him he was a mean-spirited, cowardly hound," said Roylance, "and not fit for the society of gentlemen."

"Hark at the bishop's boy, I dare say he did it himself."

"Just the sort of thing I should do!" replied Roylance, sharply. "More likely one of Mike Terry's brutal tricks."

"Oh, very well, Master Roy. You and I can talk that over another time. So you mean to say I did it?"

Roylance did not answer, and just then Sydney recovered his voice, the faintness passing away like a cloud. "Was it he?" whispered the boy. "I'm not sure," whispered Roylance. "Don't quarrel because of me. Does my head bleed now?"

"No; I've tied my handkerchief tightly round it. Lie still, you'll be better soon.—Here, marine, knot up that hammock again. You shan't be cut down again, for I'll keep watch."

"There's nothing the matter," said Terry, from the other end of the berth; "it's only one of Miss Roylance's fads. Currying favour with the skipper by making a pet monkey of his boy."

Roylance ground his teeth, and Syd lay very quiet listening, and watching the marine as he knotted together the broken lines, helping him in afterwards, and going away with the lantern.

"Don't wait," whispered Syd; "it's very good of you, but I'm not hurt much. They cut the ropes up by my head, didn't they?"

"Yes; the cowards! But I don't think they'll touch you again now. Shall I stop?"

"No; don't, please. I may as well take my chance."

"Very well," said Roylance, and he went back to his own hammock amongst the remarks and laughs of those who, from liking or dread, had made themselves the parasites of the leader of the mess.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

Syd started into wakefulness in the morning to find that he had been sleeping heavily. His head ached a little, and when he moved there was a smarting sensation, but he felt disturbed mentally more than in body. He turned out of his hammock and dressed as quickly as the new stiff buttonholes of his uniform would allow, all the time suffering from a sensation of misery and discomfort which made his temper anything but amiable.

"How's your head?" said Roylance, who was one of the last to wake.

"Bad—sore—aches."

"Let me look."

Syd submitted himself unwillingly.

"Only wants a bathe, and a bit of plaister. I'll see to that."

The dressing was finished, the hammocks rolled up, and Syd was wondering how long breakfast would be, and what they should have. Terry, who was strolling about the place watching him furtively, suddenly stood aside, the others watching him.

At that moment Roylance came down into his berth with a pair of scissors and some sticking-plaister.

"Here you are," he said. "I'll just cut a little of the hair away, and put a bit of this on. It won't show under your hat."

"All right," said Syd, sitting down in the middle of the place on the top of his sea-chest; "but you needn't have fetched that. I had some in here."

"Do for next time," said Roylance, cutting off a large piece of plaister.

"Oh, nonsense," said Syd, laughing; "a quarter of that would do. I could do it myself if I could see."

Just then Terry came swaggering up, and Roylance winced, the scissors with which he was cutting the plaister trembling a little.

"Oh, look here, Master Roy," said Terry, haughtily. "You made some remarks to me in the night about that cutting down of the hammock. I want an apology from you."

"I'm busy now, Mr Terry," said Roylance; and the irritable feeling which troubled Syd seemed to be on the increase.

"I didn't ask you if you were busy, sir, I said I wanted an apology," continued Terry, while the rest of the mess looked on excitedly at the promising quarrel between the two eldest middies on board the Sirius.

"I'm attending to this new messmate's hurt."

"Let him go to the doctor if he is hurt," snarled Terry. "I tell you I want an apology. You as good as said that I cut down this cub's hammock last night."

"If I had quite said it, I dare say I shouldn't have been far wrong," replied Roylance, in a low tone.

"Oh, indeed, miss," sneered Terry, "you always were clever with your tongue, like the long thin molly you are. Now then, take that back before—"

He ceased speaking and doubled his fists.

Syd felt as if he were sitting on a fire, and something within him was beginning to boil.

"I'm not going to apologise now," said Roylance, wincing a little, but speaking more determinedly than before.

"Arn't you? Then I'm going to make you," said Terry. "Bolton, go to the bottom of the ladder and give warning."

"No, no; send Jenks," said the boy addressed, appealingly.

"You go, and do as you're told," said Terry, fiercely; and Syd felt as if he must boil over soon, no matter how much he was hurt.

"Now then, Miss Roylance, if you please, I'm waiting," said Terry, in an offensive way. "You're such a talker that you can easily make a nice apology."

Roylance went on cutting and sticking the piece of plaister.

"Do you hear me, sir?" cried Terry, "or am I to set Baby Jenks to thrash you?"

"Stand up, Belton," said Roylance, quietly. "Now then, turn a little more to the light;" and Sydney rose.

"Stand aside, youngster. I want to give Miss Roylance a bit of sticking-plaister first."

As he spoke he gave Syd, who was between them, a push, whose result astounded him.

"Out of the way will you," cried Syd, fiercely; "can't you see he's busy?"

That which had been boiling in him had gone over the side at last, and Terry stopped short staring with astonishment.

"If you want to talk to him, wait till he has done my head. Better talk to me, for it was you, you great coward, who cut me down."

"Why you—oh, this is too good!" cried Terry, with a forced laugh, as he looked round at the little knot of his messmates. "There, wait a minute till I've done with Molly Roylance, and I'll soon settle your little bill."

Roylance stood looking pale and excited, with the scissors and plaister still in his hand, but on his guard ready to spring back or sidewise if attacked. Then he, like his would-be assailant, stared in astonishment. For Syd had resumed his position between them as if about to lower his head to the light; when, feeling that if he wished to maintain his character he must act sharply against what was to him a new boy in the midshipman's mess, Terry laid hold of Syd's collar and swung him round.

"Out of the way, will you!" he said; and as the road was clear he made a spring at Roylance, but suddenly gave his head a twist, tripped over the new sea-chest that was in the way, and fell heavily.

"Oh, that's it, is it?" he cried, as he sprang to his feet. "Well, the sooner you have your lesson the better."

He began to divest himself of his upper garment as he spoke; and Syd, whose teeth were set, and whose knuckles were tingling from the effect of the blow he had planted on Terry, rapidly imitated him.

"No, no," said Roylance, excitedly; "this is my quarrel. You see fair."

"You want me to quarrel with you?" cried Syd, fiercely; "see fair yourself. Hold that."

He threw his garment to the tall slight lad, and rolled up his sleeves, to stand forth no mean antagonist for the bully, though Terry was a couple of inches taller, as many years older, and better set.

"Be ready to pick him up, Molly Roy," said Terry, sneeringly. "Get a sponge and a basin of water ready, Baby Jenks, and—"

He staggered back. For as he spoke he had begun sparring at one who was smarting with rage, and the thought that the cowardly fellow who had injured him so in the night was before him ready for him to take his revenge. Syd thought of nothing else, and the moment he was facing his adversary, clashed in at him, delivering so fierce a blow that Terry nearly went down.

Then came and went blow after blow. There was a close, a fierce struggle here and there, and both went down just as a pair of broad shoulders were seen at the door beside those of Bolton, who was keeping watch over the fight instead of the companion-ladder, and the broad shoulders and the rugged countenance were those of the new boatswain.

"Arn't lost much time," he growled.

"No. Don't stop 'em," whispered Bolton. "Let them have it out."

"Oh, I arn't agoin' to stop 'em," growled back Barney. "He's got to be a fighting man, so he'd better larn to fight."

"Can he fight?" whispered the middy.

"Seems like it, sir: that was right in the nose."

An excited murmur ran through the spectators, as after a sharp little episode, during which Syd had been a good deal knocked about, Terry went back against the bulkhead and stood with his hand to his face.

"Ready for the sponge and basin, Mike Terry?" squeaked Jenks; and there was a laugh.

"I'll remember that, Baby," cried Terry, squaring up to his adversary again with the full intention of putting an end to an encounter beneath his dignity; and after a sharp struggle Syd's crown struck the bulkhead loudly, and he went down sitting on a locker.

"That's done him," said Bolton, with a sigh, as if he were disappointed.

"Not it, my lad. Master Syd arn't got warm yet. Your chap's got his work cut out to lick him."

"Then he can fight?" whispered Bolton, eagerly.

"Well, it arn't so much his fighting; it's a way he's got o' not being able to leave off when he's wound up, and that tires 'em. Look at that."

The fight had been renewed by Terry rushing forward to finish off his antagonist, who had seemed to be a little confused by the last round.

But Sydney eluded him, and with a wonderful display of activity avoided several awkward blows, and after wearying his enemy managed to deliver one with all his might in unpleasant proximity to Terry's eyes.

The struggle went on with varying success, Syd on the whole naturally getting far the worst of it; but Barney stood stolidly looking on, and when Roylance felt his heart sink as he saw how badly his brave young defender was being beaten, the boatswain said coolly to Bolton in reply to a—

"Now then, what do you think of that?"

"Lot's o' stuff in him yet, young gen'leman. He's good for another hour."

There was encounter after encounter, and close after close, during which Syd generally went down first; but to Terry's astonishment the more he knocked his young antagonist about the fiercer it made him, and at last after delivering a successful blow full in Syd's chest he cried out—

"Take him away, Roy; I don't want to hurt him any—"

Terry did not finish his remark, for the second half of that last word was knocked back by a bang right in the mouth, followed up by several others so rapidly delivered that the champion of the midshipmen's mess went down this time without a struggle.

"What do you think o' that, young gen'leman?" said Barney.

"Hurray!" whispered Bolton, bending down and squeezing his hands between his knees; "he'll lick him."

"Eh? I thought he was your man."

"A beast! He's always knocking us about," whispered Bolton. "Hurray! go it, Belt."

The adversaries were face to face again, and there was a breathless silence.

"Had enough?" panted Terry.

"No, not half," cried Syd, rushing at him.

"Look at that! See his teeth?" said Barney. "That's British bull-dog, that is. Master Syd never fights till he's made, but when he does—My eye! that was a crack."

But it was not Barney's eye. It was Terry's, and the blow was so sharp that the receiver went down into a corner, and refused to get up again, while the subjects of the fallen king crowded round the victor eager to shake hands.

"No, no," panted Syd; "don't: my knuckles are all bleeding. What's my face like?" he said sharply to Roylance.

"Knocked about; but never mind that, Belton; you've won."

"I don't mind," was the reply; "and I don't want to win. Are you much hurt?" he continued, going to Terry's corner, where the vanquished hero was still seated upon the floor with little Jenkins, with much sympathy, offering to sponge his face.

"I'm sorry we fought," said Syd, quietly. "Shake hands."

There was no reply.

"You're not hurt much, are you?"

Terry gave him one quick look, and then let his head down on his chest.

"You'll shake hands?" said Syd. "We can be friends now."

Still no notice.

"Shake hands, Mike Terry," piped little Jenkins. "You've licked everybody, and it was quite your turn."

"Hold your tongue, you little wretch," hissed the other. "I owe you something for this."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the impish little fellow, beginning to caper about with the sponge. "You touch me again and I'll get Belton to give you your gruel. You nasty great coward, you've got it at last."

"Don't you be a coward," said Syd, sharply. "Now, Mr Terry, I'm very sorry: shake hands."

"Here, one of you take that basin and sponge away from Jenks," said Terry, getting up painfully. "He wouldn't have done this if I hadn't hurt one of my arms."

"Well, if I was licked fair like that, I would own to it," said Bolton. "It was fair, wasn't it, Roy?"

"As fair as a fight could be," was the reply.

"Yes," said Barney, thrusting in his head, "that was as fair as could be, Master Syd."

"What you, Barney!"

"Bo'sun, sir. I wouldn't interrupt you afore, 'cause I knowed you wouldn't like it, but the captain wants to see you."

"What!" cried Sydney, as he clapped his hands to his swollen nose and lips. "Wants to see me?"

"Soon as ever he's done his braxfass, sir."

"Oh, what shall I do?" cried Syd.

"Dunno, sir," said the boatswain, grinning, "unless you sends word you're sea-sick, for you do look bad."

"No, no, I can't do that."

"Oh, I dunno, sir," said the boatswain, chuckling. "You was sea-sick months before you joined your ship, so I don't see why you shouldn't be now. My Panny-mar's got it too. Took bad last night."

"What, has he been fighting?"

"Didn't ask him, sir; but he can't see out of his eyes, and when I asked him how he felt, he grinned like all on one side."

"I heard there was a fight with a new boy," piped out Jenkins. "Had it out with Monkey Bill and licked him. Was that your boy, bo'sun?"

"That's him, sir. We all comes of a fighting breed; him and me and the cap'en and Master Syd here. Skipper's awful, and I shall be sorry for the Frenchies and Spanles as he tackles. Well, Master Syd, what am I to tell the captain's sarvant 'bout you?"

"Go and ask to see the captain," said Syd, firmly, "and tell him that I have been having a fight, and am not fit to come."

"Hear that?" said the boatswain, looking proudly round—"hear that, young gen'lemen? That's Bri'sh bull-dog, that is. What do you think of your messmate now?"

The middies gave a cheer, and crowded round Syd as Terry bent over the locker to bathe his swollen face, and he looked up once, but did not say a word.

"Some says fighting among boys is a bad thing," muttered the boatswain, as he went on deck, "and I don't approve of it. But when one chap bullies all the rest, same as when one country begins to wallop all the others, what are you to do?"



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

As Bo'sun Strake reached the deck, he came suddenly upon the first lieutenant, and touched his hat.

"Where have you been, my man?"

"Down below, sir."

"I said where have you been, my man?" said the lieutenant, sternly.

"Young gentlemen's quarters, sir."

"What was going on there?"

The bo'sun hesitated, but the lieutenant's eyes fixed him, and he said, unwillingly—

"A fight, sir."

"Humph! The new midshipman—Mr Belton?"

"Yes, sir."

"Got well thrashed, I suppose?"

"No, sir; not he," cried the bo'sun, eagerly.

"Who was it with?"

"Tall young gent, sir, as brought us off in the boat yesterday."

"That will do."

"Hope he won't mast-head the dear boy for this," muttered Barney, as he went aft, found the captain's servant, and asked to see his master.

In a few minutes he was summoned, and found Captain Belton writing.

"Well, Strake; what is it?"

"I had a message, your honour, to take to the young gentlemen's berth."

"Yes; to Mr Belton. Is he here?"

"No, your honour; he's there."

"Well, is he coming?"

"If you say he's to come, sir, he'll come; but he don't look fit."

"Why? Fighting?"

"Yes, sir."

"And been beaten?"

"Beaten, your honour? Well, beggin' your pardon, sir, I'm surprised at you. My boy Panny-mar give it to his man pretty tidy last night, but he's nothing to that young gent below yonder."

"Indeed!" said the captain, frowning.

"Yes, sir, indeed. He do look lovely."

"Who has my son been fighting with?"

"Young gent as was in charge of the boat as brought Sir Thomas and us aboard, sir."

"That will do, Strake."

The bo'sun touched his forehead, and backed out of the cabin.

"So soon!" muttered Captain Belton; and, taking his hat, he went on deck to encounter the first lieutenant directly.

"I find that my son has been fighting in the midshipmen's mess, Mr Bracy," he said. "Please bear in mind that he is Mr Belton, a midshipman in his Majesty's service, and that I wish that no favour should be shown to him on account of his being nearly related to me."

"Trust me for that, Captain Belton," said the lieutenant. "If I made any exception at all, it would be to bear a little more severely upon him."

"And in this case?"

"Well, sir, in this case, from what I understand, he has incapacitated our senior midshipman for duty."

"I am sorry," said the captain.

"I am glad," said the first lieutenant.

"Eh?"

"Cut his comb, sir. Good, gentlemanly-looking fellow, who understands his duty, but a sad bully, I fear."

"Oh! And you will punish—er—them both?"

"Punish, sir?" said the lieutenant; "oh dear, no. I don't mean to hear anything about it, sir. But I congratulate you upon the stuff of which your son is made."

"Thank you, Mr Bracy," said the captain, as they touched their hats to each other most ceremoniously, and the captain went back to his cabin.

For the next week all was confusion on deck, alow and aloft. The captain stayed at the hotel ashore so as to be handy, and the first lieutenant ruled supreme.

The riggers were still busy, and the crew hard at work getting in stores, water, and provisions, including fresh meat and vegetables. Coops and pens were stowed forward, and chaos was the order of the day.

Syd became thoroughly well accustomed to the middies' berth, for he was obliged to keep down all day, mostly in company with Terry, but they kept apart as much as possible, and Syd was old enough to feel that it was a very hollow truce between them.

But as soon as it was dark he was up on deck, where it was not long before he found out that he was the object of attention of the men, who were not slow to show their admiration for the young fellow who had so soon displayed his mettle by thrashing the bully of the mess.

The bo'sun was to answer for a good deal of this, and so it was, that go where he would there was a smile for him, and an eagerness on the part of the crew to answer questions or perform any little bit of service.

This was all very pleasant, and life on board began to look less black, although it really was life in the dark.

"But, never mind, Roy," he would say, in allusion to his nocturnal life; "keeps people from seeing what a face I've got. Don't look so bad to-day, does it?"

"Bad? no. It's all right."

"Oh, is it? I suppose it about matches Terry's, and his is a pretty sight."

During his week Syd was always expecting to be summoned by his father or the first lieutenant, but he encountered neither; they seemed to have forgotten his existence. So he read below a great deal of light, cheerful, edifying matter upon navigation—good yawning stuff, with plenty of geometry in it and mathematical calculations, seeing little of his messmates, who were on the whole pretty busy.

At night, though, he began to acquire a little practical seamanship, calling upon the bo'sun, a most willing teacher, to impart all he could take in, in these brief lessons, about the masts, yards, sails, stays, and ropes. He went aloft, and being eager and quick, picked up a vast amount of information of a useful kind, Barney knowing nothing that was not of utility.

"Never had no time for being polished, Master Syd," he would say, "but lor me, what a treat it is to get back among the hemp and canvas! I never used to think when I was splicing a graft on a tree that I should come to splicing 'board ship again. When are you coming on deck again in the day-time?"

"Not till I look decent, Barney."

"Beg pardon, sir."

"Bo'sun, then."

"Thankye, sir."

The week had passed, and the next day the ship was clear of its dockyard artisans. Shipwrights, riggers, and the rest of them had gone, and leaving the painting to be done by his crew during calms, the captain received his orders, the frigate was unmoored, and Syd watched from one of the little windows the receding waves, becoming more and more conscious of the fact that there was wind at work and tide in motion.

The time went on, and he knew that there was the land on one side and a verdant island on the other, but somehow he did not admire them, and when Roylance came to him in high glee to call him to dinner, with the announcement that there were roast chickens and roast leg of pork as a wind-up before coming down to biscuit and salt junk, Syd said he would not come.

"But chickens, man—chickens roast."

"Don't care for roast chickens," said Syd.

"Roast pork then, and sage and onions."

"Oh, I say, don't!" cried Syd, with a shudder.

"Well, I must go, or I shan't get a morsel," cried Roylance, and he hurried away.

"How horrible!" thought the boy. "I do believe I'm going to be sea-sick, just like any other stupid person who goes a voyage for the first time."

Before evening the frigate had passed high chalk bluffs on the left, and on the right a wide bay, with soft yellow sandy shore. Then there was chalk to right and the open channel to left; then long ranges of limestone cliffs, dotted with sea-birds, and then evening and the land growing distant, the waves rising and falling, and as he went to his hammock that night Syd uttered a groan.

"What's the matter, lad?" cried Roylance, who was below.

"Bad," said Syd, laconically.

"Nonsense! make a bold fight of it."

"Fight?" cried Syd; "why Baby Jenks could thrash me now. How long shall I be ill?"

"Well, if it gets rough, as it promises to, I dare say you'll have a week of it."

"A week?" groaned Syd.

Then some time after, to himself, between bad paroxysms of misery—

"Never mind," he said; "by the time I am able to go on deck again I shall look fit to be seen."

It was about a couple of hours later, when the frigate had got beyond a great point which jutted out into the sea, and began to stretch away for the ocean, that Syd awakened to the fact that the vessel seemed to be having a game with him. She glided up and up, bearing him tenderly and gently as it were up to the top of a hill of water, and then, after holding him there for a moment, she dived down and left him, with a horrible sensation of falling that grew worse as the wind increased, and the Sirius heeled over.

"I wonder whether, if I made a good brave effort, I could master this giddy weak sensation," thought the boy. "I'll try."

He made his effort—a good, bold, brave effort—and then he lay down and did not try to make any more efforts for a week, when after passing through what seemed to be endless misery, during which he lay helplessly in his hammock, listening to the creaking of the ship's timbers and the rumble that went on overhead, and often thinking that the ship was diving down into the sea never to come up again, he was aroused by a gruff voice, which sounded like Barney Strake's. It was very dark, and he felt too ill to open his eyes, but he spoke and said—

"Is that you, bo'sun?"

"Ay, ay, my lad; me it is. Come, rouse and bit."

"I couldn't, Barney," said Syd, feebly. "The very thought of a bit of anything makes me feel worse."

"Yah! not it; and I didn't mean eat; I meant turn out, have a good wash, and dress, and come on deck."

"I should die if I tried."

"Die, lad? What, you? Any one would think you was ill."

"I am, horribly."

"Yah! nonsense! On'y squirmy. Weather's calming down now, and you'll be all right."

"No, Barney; never any more," sighed Syd. "I say."

"Ay, my lad. What is it?"

"Will they bury me at sea, Barney?"

"Haw—haw—haw!" laughed the bo'sun. "He thinks he's going to die! Why, Master Syd, I did think you had a better heart."

"You don't know how ill I am," said the boy, feebly.

"Yes I do, zackly. I've seen lots bad like you, on'y it arn't bad, but doing you good."

"No, Barney; you don't know," said Syd, a little more forcibly.

"Why, you haven't been so bad as my Pan-y-mar was till I cured him."

"Did you cure him?" said Syd, beginning to take more interest in the bo'sun's words.

"Ay, my lad, in quarter of an hour."

"Do you think you could cure me, Barney? I don't want to die just yet."

"On'y hark at him."

"But do you think you could cure me?"

"Course I could, my lad; but I mustn't. You've get the doctor to see you. Don't he do you no good?"

"No, Barney; he only laughed at me—like you did."

"'Nough to make him, lad. You're not bad."

"I tell you I am," cried Syd, angrily. "What did you give Pan?"

"I didn't give him nothin', sir. I only showed him a rope's-end, and I says to him, 'Now look ye here, Pan-y-mar,' I says, 'if you aren't dressed and up and doing in quarter hour, here's your dose.'"

"Oh!" moaned Syd.

"And he never wanted to take it, Master Syd, for he was up on deck 'fore I said, and he haven't been bad since."

"How could you be such a brute, Barney?"

"Brute, lad? Why, it was a kindness. If I might serve you the same—"

"It would kill me," said Syd, angrily; and somehow his voice grew stronger.

"Kill yer! You'd take a deal more killing than you think for."

"No, I shouldn't. I'm nearly dead now."

"Nay, lad; you're as lively as a heel in fresh water. Capen sent me down to see how you was."

"He hasn't been to see me, Barney."

"Course he arn't, lad. Had enough to do looking arter the ship, for we've had a reg'lar snorer these last few days. Don't know when I've seen a rougher sea. Been quite a treat to a man who has been ashore so long. See how the frigate behaved?"

"Did she, Barney?"

"Loverly. There, get up; and I'll go and tell the skipper you're all right again."

"But I tell you I'm not. I'm very, very bad."

"Not you, Master Syd."

"I am, I tell you."

"Not you, lad. Nothing the matter with you;" and Barney winked to himself.

"Look here," cried Syd, passionately, as he jumped up in his hammock, "you're a stupid, obstinate old fool, so be off with you."

"And you're a midshipman, that's what you are, Master Syd, as thinks he's got the mumble-dumbles horrid bad, when it's fancy all the time."

"Do you want me to hit you, Barney?" cried Syd, angrily.

"Hit me? I should like you to do it, sir. Do you know I'm bo'sun of this here ship?"

"I don't care what you are," cried Syd. "You're an unfeeling brute. An ugly old idiot, that's what you are."

"Oh! am I, sir? Well, what do you call yerself—all yaller and huddled up like a sick monkey in a hurricane. Why, I'd make a better boy out of a ship's paddy and a worn-out swab."

Syd hit out at him with all his might, striking the bo'sun in the chest, but overbalancing himself so that he rolled out of the hammock, and would have fallen had not Barney caught him in his arms and planted him on the deck.

"Hoorray! Well done, Master Syd; now then, on with these here stockings, and jump into your breeches. I'll help you. On'y want a good wash and a breath o' fresh air, and then—look here, I'll get the cook to let you have a basin o' soup, and you'll be as right as a marlin-spike in a ball o' tow."

Syd was too weak to make much opposition. He had awakened to the fact after his fit of passion that he really was not so bad as he thought. The ship was not dancing about, and there was a bright ray of sunshine cutting the darkness outside the place where he lay, and once or twice he had inhaled a breath of sweet, balmy, summer-like air. Then, too, his head did not swim so much in an erect position, and he let Barney go on talking in his rough, good-humoured fashion, and help him on with some clothes; bring him a bowl of water in which he had a good wash; and when at last he was dressed and sitting back weak and helpless on the locker, the bo'sun said—

"Now, I was going to say have a whiff o' fresh air first, my lad; but you are a bit pulled down for want o' wittals. I'll speak to the cook now, and seeing who you are, I dessay he'll rig you up a mess of slops as 'll do you no end o' good."

"I couldn't touch anything, Barney."

"Yah, lad! you dunno. Said you couldn't get up, and here you are. Think I can't manage you. Here, have another hit out at me."

"Oh, Barney, I am so sorry."

"Sorry be hanged, lad! I'm glad. You won't know yourself another hour."

"But—but I'm going to be sick again, Barney," gasped the invalid.

"That's a moral impossibility, my lad, as I werry well know. You sit still while I fetch you something to put in your empty locker. Didn't know I was such a doctor, did yer?"

Barney stepped out of the door, and went straight for the galley, leaving Syd leaning back in a corner feeling deathly sick, the perspiration standing cold upon his brow, and with an intense longing to lie down once more, and in profound ignorance of what will can do for a sea-sick patient after a certain amount of succumbing.

The threat of the rope's-end had finished Pan's bout. Something else was going to act as a specific for Syd's.

He had been seated there a few minutes when there was a light step, and a little figure appeared surmounted by the comically withered countenance of Jenkins.

"Hallo, Belton!" he cried. "Up again. Better?"

"No; I feel very ill."

"Never mind. You do look mouldy, though. Can I get you anything?"

"No; I couldn't touch a bit."

"Couldn't you? Keep your head to the wind, lad, and get well. Old Mike Terry's getting horrid saucy again, so look sharp and bung him up."

The little fellow popped up on deck, and took the news, with the effect that Bolton came and said a word of congratulation, and he was followed by Roylance.

"Oh, I am glad, old fellow," cried the latter. "You've had a nasty bout. But, I say, your eyes are all right again, and the swelling's gone from your lip."

"Has it?" said Syd, feebly, as if nothing mattered now.

"Yes; you'll very soon come round. We've run down with a rush before that nor'-easter, and we're getting into lovely summer weather. Coming on deck?"

"Too weak."

"Not you. Do you good. But I must go back on deck. Regular drill on."

He hurried away, and Syd was leaning back utterly prostrated, when there was another step, and he opened his eyes to see that the figure which darkened the door was that of Terry, who came into the low dark place, and stood looking down at his late antagonist with a sneering contemptuous smile which was increased to a laugh.

"What a poor miserable beggar!" he said, as if talking to himself. "Talk about the sailor's sick parrot. Ha, ha, ha!"

A faint tinge of colour began to dawn in Syd's face. "Well," said Terry; "what are you staring at?"

Syd made no reply, only kept his eyes fixed on his enemy, and panted slightly.

"Hadn't you better go and ask your father to put you ashore somewhere, miss?" sneered Terry. "You ought to be sent home in a Bath chair."

Syd made no reply, and Terry, who under his assumed nonchalant sneering aspect was simmering with rage at the sight of his conqueror, went on glorying in the chance to trample on a fallen enemy, and trying to work him up to do something which would give him an excuse for delivering a blow.

"I can't think what officers are about to bring such miserable sickly objects on board the King's ships to upset and annoy everybody with their miserable long-shore ways. It's a scandal to the service."

Still Syd made no answer, and emboldened by the silence Terry went on.

"If I had my way I'd just take every contemptible sick monkey who laid up, haul him on deck, make fast a rope to his ankle, and souse him overboard a few times. That would cure them."

Syd closed his eyes, for he was giddy; but his breast rose and fell as if he were suffering from some emotion.

"Filling the ship up with a pack of swabs who, because they are sons of captains, are indulged and nursed, and the whole place is turned into a hospital. Why don't you go into the cabin?"

"Because I don't choose," cried Syd, suddenly starting up with his face flushing, his eyes bright, and the passion that was in him sending the blood coursing through his veins.

Terry started back in astonishment.

"I'm not going into the cabin, because I am going to stop here in the midshipmen's berth to teach the bully of the mess how to behave himself like a gentleman."

"What?"

"And not like the domineering cur and coward he is."

"Coward?"

"Yes, to come and talk to me like this; you know I'm weak and ill."

"What? Why, you miserable contemptible cub, say another word and I'll rub your nose on the planks till you beg my pardon."

"Another word, and a dozen other words, Bully Terry. Touch me, coward! I can't help myself now; but if you lay a finger on me, I'll get well and give you such a thrashing as the last shall be like nothing to it. You've got one of my marks still on your ugly nose. Now, touch me if you dare."

"Why, hullo, Master Syd; that you?" said Barney, in his loudest voice, as he entered the place with a basin full of some steaming compound.

"Ha—ha—ha!" laughed Terry. "Here's the nurse come with the baby's pap. Did you put some sugar in it, old woman?"

"Nay, sir; no sugar," said Barney, touching his hat; "but there's plenty of good solid beef-stock in it, the cook says; stuff as 'll rouse up Mr Belton's muscles, and make 'em 'tiff as hemp-rope. Like to try 'em again in a fortnight's time?"

"You insolent scoundrel! how dare you! Do you forget that you are speaking to your officer?"

"No, sir. Beg pardon, sir."

"It is not granted. Leave this place, sir, and go on deck."

"Don't do anything of the kind, Strake," cried Syd, who was calming down. "You are waiting on me."

"Do you hear me, sir?" roared Terry again.

"I can," said Syd, coolly, "and a wretchedly unpleasant voice it is. Go and bray somewhere else, donkey. Let's see, it was the ass that tried to kick the sick—"

"Lion," interrupted Terry, with a sneer. "Are you a sick lion?"

"It would be precious vain to say yes," said Syd; "but I'll own to being the sick lion if you'll own to being the beast who hoisted his heels."

"Bah!" ejaculated Terry, and he turned and stalked out of the place.

"Felt as if I should have liked to go at him again," cried Syd, fiercely.

Barney winked to himself.

"He'll give me one for that, sir. Now then, just you try a spoonful o' this; 'tain't too hot. Not a nyste sort o' young gen'leman, is he?"

"No, Barney," said Syd, taking the spoon.

"His pap was a bit sour p'raps when he was young, eh, Master Syd?"

"An overbearing bully!" cried Syd. "Only wait till I get strong again."

"And then you'll give it to him again, sir?"

"I don't want to quarrel or fight with anybody," said Syd, speaking quickly and excitedly, between the spoonfuls of strong soup he was swallowing.

"Course you don't, sir; you never was a quarrelsome young gent."

"But he is beyond bearing."

"That's true, sir; so he is. Only I mustn't say so. Lor', how I have seen young gents fight afore now; but when it's been all over, they've shook hands as if they'd found out who was strongest, and there's been an end on it."

"Yes, Barney."

"But this young gen'leman, sir, don't seem to take his beating kindly. Hauls down his colours, and you sends your orficer aboard to take possession—puts, as you may say, your right hand in, but he wouldn't take it."

"No, Barney," said Syd, as the bo'sun winked again to himself, "he wouldn't shake hands."

"No, sir; he wouldn't. I see it all, and thought I ought to stop it, but I knowed from the first you'd lick him; and it strikes me werry hard, Mr Syd, sir, that you'll have to do all that there bit o' work over again."

"But I'm weak now, and he may lick me, Barney," said Syd, who was making a peculiar noise now with the spoon he held—a noise which sounded like the word soup.

"Weak? not you, sir. Feels a bit down, but you'll soon forget that. I wouldn't try to bring it on again, sir," said Barney, watching his young master all the while.

"Bring it on? No," cried Sydney. "I tell you I hate fighting. I don't like being hurt."

"Course not, sir."

"And I don't like hurting any one."

"Well, sir, strikes me that's foolish, 'cause there's no harm in hurtin' a thing like him. Do him good, I say. You see, Master Syd, there's young gents as grows into good skippers, and there's young gents as grows into tyrants, and worries the men till they mutinies, and there's hangings and court-martials—leastwise, court-martials comes first. Now, Mr Terry, sir, unless he's tamed down and taught better, 's one o' the sort as makes bad skippers, and the more he's licked the better he'll be."

"I shall never like him," said Syd, whose spoon was scraping the bottom of the basin now.

"No, sir; I s'pose not," said Barney, with a dry grin beginning to spread over his countenance. "Nobody could; but I dare say his mother thinks he's a werry nyste boy, and kisses and cuddles him, and calls him dear."

"Yes, I suppose so, Barney."

"And a pretty dear too; eh, Master Syd?"

"Yes, Barney. What are you laughing at?"

"You, sir," cried the bos'un. "Hooray! he's took it all, and said he couldn't touch a drop."

"Well, I thought I couldn't, Barney; but Mr Terry roused me up, and I feel better now."

"Nay, sir; play fair."

"What do you mean?"

"Give a man his doo. It was me roused you up."

"So it was, Barney. I'm a deal better."

"You're quite well, says Doctor Barney Strake, and that's me. Say, Master Syd, what do they call that they gives a doctor wrorped up in paper?"

"His fee."

"Then, sir, that's just what you owes me, who says to you now—just you go on deck and breathe the fresh wind, for this here place would a'most stuffocate a goose."

"Yes, I'll try and get on deck now," said Syd.

"And try means do. Hooray, sir, I'm going to tell the captain as you're quite well, thankye, now, Amen."

"Not quite well, Barney."

"Ay, but you are, sir. But I say, Master Syd."

"What?"

"You never said your grace."



CHAPTER TWENTY.

The cure was complete, and two days later Syd had almost forgotten that he had been ill. The weather was glorious, and as they sailed on south and west before a favouring breeze, life at sea began to have its charms.

Every day the ocean seemed to grow more blue; and pretty often there was something fresh to look at, fish, or bird wandering far from land.

But theirs was to be no pleasure trip, as Syd soon realised upon seeing the many preparations that were being made for war.

In his old days of command, Captain Harry Belton's was considered the smartest manned ship in the squadron in which he served, and it was his ambition now to make up for the many deficiencies he discovered on board the frigate. Consequently gun and small-arm drill was almost as frequent as the practice of making and shortening sail. The crew grumbled and grew weary, but all the same they felt an increasing respect for the officer who was determined to have everything done in the best way possible, and when the captain did say a few words of praise for some smart bit of seamanship, the men felt that it was praise worth having.

It seemed rather hard to Syd at times that his father should be so cold and distant. Roylance, who had become great friends with the new middy, noticed it too.

"Were you bad friends at home?" he said to Syd, one day, as they were leaning over the taffrail gazing down at the clear blue sea.

"Oh no, the best of friends; and I always dined with him and Uncle Tom when he was there, and sat with them at dessert."

"Oh, I say, don't talk about it," said Roylance; "late dinners and dessert. Different to our rough berth, eh?"

"Ye-es," said Syd: "but one gets to like this more now."

"Does seem strange though about the captain."

"Takes more notice of the others than he does of me."

"I don't know about more," said Roylance. "Treats us all the same, I think. Well, when you come to think of it, you are one of us, and it wouldn't be fair if he favoured you."

"No."

"Suppose it was promotion? No, you mustn't grumble.—I say."

"Yes."

"I wouldn't trust old Terry too much, Syd."

"Why not? He's friendly enough now; and we don't want to fight again."

"No; but he's too civil to you now, and always looks to me as if he would do you an ill turn if he could."

Syd laughed.

"Ah, you may grin; but you wouldn't laugh if you found he'd just given you a push and sent you overboard some dark night."

"Nonsense!"

"I hope it is, but don't you trust him. I've known Mike Terry three years, and I've always found that he never forgave anybody who got the better of him."

"I'm not going to trust him particularly, nor keep him off," said Syd, carelessly. "I say, though, how funny it is I find myself talking and feeling just as if I'd been at sea ever so long, instead of two or three weeks."

"Soon get used to it. You've been very lucky, though."

"How?" said Syd. "Being beaten nearly to a mummy, and then being sea-sick for a week?"

"Having that fight, and marking Mike Terry. It's made all the fellows like you."

"And I don't deserve it."

"Oh, don't you! Well, never mind about that."

"No; never mind about that," said Syd, carelessly. "I say, where are we going?"

"Don't know. Nobody does. Sealed orders to be opened somewhere. I can guess where."

"Indeed!"

"Yes; at Barbadoes."

"Is that a nice place?"

"Middling. I like Jamaica better."

"And shall we go there?"

"Wait, and you'll see, like the rest of us."

"But do you think we shall have to fight?"

"If we meet any of the enemy's ships, we shall have to fight or run away."

"We shall never run away," said Syd, hotly. "My father would never do that."

Almost as he spoke, the man at the mast-head shouted "Sail ho!" and there was a commotion aboard. Glasses were levelled, and before long a second ship was made out; and before long two more appeared, and by the cut of the sails it was decided that it was a little squadron of the French.

Syd, to whom all this was wonderfully fresh, was eagerly scanning the distant sails, which showed up clearly now in the bright sunshine, when a voice behind him said—

"Of course. How cowardly!"

"What would you do then?" said another familiar voice.

"Face them as a king's ship should."

"One frigate against four—one of which seems to be a two-decker, eh? Well, I say, the skipper's right to cut and run."

"Cut and run from the presence of the enemy—his father going to flee?" Syd felt the blood come into his face, as he listened to the rapid orders that were given, as the ship's course was altered, and in a short time the Sirius was rushing through the sea at a tremendous rate.

Syd bit his lip, and felt cold with shame and mortification. It seemed to him that he would not be able to face his messmates down below that evening; and seizing the opportunity he made his way to where the bo'sun was standing, silver pipe in hand, ready for the next order that might come.

"Barney," he whispered, "we're running away."

"Not us, my lad," said the old sailor, gruffly. "Four to one means having our top gear knocked about our deck, and then boarding. Skipper knows what he's about, and strikes me he'll 'stonish some o' them Mounseers afore they know where they are."

"Then, why don't we go and fight them?"

"Good sword-play don't mean going and blunder-headed chopping at a man like one goes at a tree, but fencing a bit till you get your chance. We're fencing, lad. What we've got to do is to take or sink all the enemy we can, not get took or sunk ourselves."

"But the glory, Barney."

"More glory in keeping afloat, my lad, than in going down. You let the skipper be; he's a better sailor than you are, I'll be bound."

Syd, after a further conversation with the boatswain, saw the night come on, with the enemy's little squadron evidently in full chase. He had clung to the hope that his father was manoeuvring so as to attack the ships one by one; but though the frigate had been cleared for action, and the men were full of excitement, there seemed as if there was to be no fighting that night.

The boy was disappointed. He was not free from the natural terror that any one would feel, but at the same time he was eager to see a naval encounter. For home conversation between his father, uncle, and their friends had frequently been of the sea and sea-fights; and he was thoroughly imbued with the belief that a British man-of-war could do precisely what it liked with the enemy, and victory against any odds was a certainty.

And here were they undoubtedly running away, to Syd's great disgust, for he had yet to learn that the better part of valour is discretion, and that a good commander is careful of his ship and men. He was the more annoyed upon encountering Terry soon afterwards discussing the state of affairs with a couple of the lads below, and finding that he ceased speaking directly, and turned away with a laugh.

Syd sat down pretending to ignore what he had seen, but the feeling within him drove him on deck again, where he was not long before one of the hearers of Terry's remarks took care that he should know what had been said. Syd was leaning over the stern gazing away into the transparent darkness, with the stars shining brilliantly overhead, when Jenkins came to his side.

"See 'em now?" said the boy.

"No. It is too dark."

"Then we shan't take any prizes this time. What a pity!"

"Perhaps we should have been turned into a prize, Jenky," said Syd, for he was now on the most familiar terms with all his messmates.

"Yes," said the boy, "perhaps so; but Mike Terry says if our old captain had been in command, he'd have put his helm down when those four frog-boxes were well within range, cut right between them, giving them our broadsides as we sailed, then rounded under their sterns, raked first one and then another as we passed, left two of them with their masts gone by the board, and gone on across the bows of the other two, and raked them from forrard. He says they'd have struck their colours in no time. Then prize crews would have been put aboard, and we should have gone back to port in triumph, with plenty of prize-money, and promotion to come."

"Almost a pity the old captain was not in command, isn't it?" said Syd, bitterly.

"He says it is. He thinks it's downright cowardly to run for it like this. Why, he says even he, young as he is, could have done it."

A sudden snap close at hand made the two lads start and look round, to see a tall dark figure a few yards away in the act of closing a night-glass.

"And pray who is the brave and experienced young officer who would have done all this?" said a cold sarcastic voice, which Syd recognised directly. "No: stop. Don't tell me, but tell him that it is a great mistake for young gentlemen in the midshipmen's berth to criticise the actions of their superior officers, who may be entirely wrong, but whether or no, their critics are more in error."

"It was—"

"I told you not to name him, sir. I don't wish to know. That will do."

The two boys felt that this was a dismissal, and they hurried away.

"Oh, I say, Belt," whispered Jenkins, "did you hear your father come up?"

"No; I think he must have been standing there, using his glass, when you came."

"I did think I saw something black. Oh, I say, Belt, your dad is a Tartar."

This little episode did not tend to make Syd more comfortable, and from that hour whenever he saw any of the men or officers talking together, he immediately fancied that they must be discussing and disapproving of Captain Belton's action in running away.

It was long afterwards that Syd knew that his father's orders were to stop for nothing, but to make all speed for the West Indies, where another vessel of war was lying. Though without those orders it would have been madness to have allowed the enemy to close in and attack.

Syd was on deck at daybreak, eager to scan the horizon, but only to find that those before him of the watch had been performing the same duty with their glasses, and there was not a sail in sight.



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

There was plenty of talk during the next fortnight's slow sailing down into the tropics, and the captain's conduct was widely discussed, Sydney every now and then coming upon some knot where those who considered the captain had played a cowardly part were in the ascendant. "Nailed the colours to the mast, and gone down together like heroes," some one said, and Sydney, who did not want to die like a hero if he could help it, but had the ambition of any healthy boy to live as long as possible, went away, feeling very low-spirited, till he came upon another excited group, at the head of whom was the boatswain.

"What!" cried the latter, in answer to a remark made by one of the opposition; "ought to have gone at 'em and give 'em chain-shot in their rigging, when you've got sealed orders. Look ye here, my lads, when you've been afloat as long as I have, you'll know that whether you're able seaman, or luff, cap, or admiral, you've got to obey. Our orders is to go right away to the West Indies, and not stop playing on the road. Strikes me as nothing would have pleased the skipper better than a game of bowls with the Parley Voos. I've sailed with him before."

"Oh, yes; you've often said that," cried one of the men.

"And I says it again, Tom Rogers. And I says this here too—don't you let him hear you say anything o' that kind, or you might have it repeated till it got into the cabin."

"Why, what did I say?" protested the man.

"That our skipper was a coward."

"That I didn't. Never said such a word."

"But you and lots more have said what meant it, and my advice is this here—don't do it again, unless you want your back scratched by the bo'sun's mates."

Sydney felt better after that, and as the days glided by the idle chatter grew less.

It was all wonderfully new to the boy, and sometimes, when the men were allowed to catch a shark, or try to harpoon dolphins, or albicore, beautiful mackerel-like fish, with the pronged implement they called the grains, he found himself wondering why he had objected to go to sea.

Then as his first nervousness wore off, and, with the rapidity common to a fresh young mind, he acquired the ordinary knowledge of his duty, he was always to the front in little bits of routine such as fell to the lot of the middies. So prominent was he in these matters, that one day, after some hours of busy training, Roylance came to him.

"First luff wants to speak to you, Belton," he said.

Sydney flushed, and then the colour faded.

"What have I been doing?" he said, hastily.

"Ah, you'll see," said Roylance, with a very serious shake of the head.

"Belt going up to the first luff," cried little Jenkins. "Oh, my! I'm sorry for you, old fellow."

"What's Belton in for it?" said Bolton. "Never mind, old chap. If it's mast-head, there's a beautiful view."

"And I'll give you a bit of rope to tie yourself on with, so that you won't fall when you go to sleep," whispered Jenkins.

"Ah! and mind you fall when she heels over to leeward," said Bolton, hastily; "then you'll drop into the sea."

"Get some biscuits for the poor beggar, Bolton," cried Jenkins. "Perhaps he'll be kept up there for a week!"

"You'd better look sharp," whispered Roylance. "He don't like to be kept waiting."

"They're only making fun of me," thought Sydney, as he drew himself up, went hurriedly to where the first lieutenant was scanning the horizon with a glass, and waited till he had done, feeling very squeamish and uncomfortable the while.

He stood there for some minutes, glancing behind him once, to see, as he expected, that his tormentors were keeping an eye upon him to see the result of his interview with the great magnate, who seemed to rule the ship—after the captain had had his say.

It was painful work to stand there studying the set of the first lieutenant's pigtail, the cock of his hat, and the seams and buttons of his coat, till the glass was lowered, tucked under this marine grand vizier's arm, and he said angrily, as if speaking to a fish which sprang out of the water—

"I told Mr Roylance to send that boy here."

"Beg pardon, sir; I've been here some time," said Sydney, touching his hat.

"And suppose you have, young gentleman; it's your duty to wait, is it not?" said the lieutenant, sharply.

"Yes, sir."

"Don't speak. If you want to be a good smart officer, listen, and don't make remarks till you are asked."

Sydney wanted to say, "You asked me a question, sir," but he held his peace.

"Now, Mr Belton," said the lieutenant, eyeing him severely, "I suppose you know that you occupy a very awkward position on board this ship? Don't answer."

"What's coming?" thought Sydney, who was perspiring freely.

"You are the captain's son."

"Yes, I know that," thought Sydney.

"And of course it naturally creates a little prejudice or jealousy against you."

"Oh, do please put me out of my misery," thought Syd.

"Mr Dallas has been talking to me about you a good deal."

"What have I done to offend the second luff?" thought Syd.

"And I quite agree with him."

"What can it be?" thought Syd.

"Now I am going to give you a bit of advice."

"Yes, sir; thank—"

"I told you not to speak, sir," cried the lieutenant, angrily. "I advise you not to be conceited, not to jump at the conclusion that you are very clever, and not to begin to domineer over your messmates because they flatter and fawn upon you on the strength of your having thrashed Mr Terry. You see I hear all these things."

Sydney felt the colour rising.

"Take that advice and you may, if you attend well to your studies in navigation, become a respectable officer. Life is not all play, my lad, so think that one of these days you will be going up for your examination to pass for lieutenant. Don't waste your time, and find yourself, when a call is made upon you, perfectly helpless and be turned back. It will be years first, but years soon spin round. There, I think that is all I have to say."

"Frightened me nearly into fits, and only wanted to say that," thought Sydney.

"No. Just another word. You think me a very gruff, fault-finding fellow, don't you?"

Sydney was silent.

"I asked you, Mr Belton, if you did not find me a very severe officer. Why don't you answer?"

"Told me not, sir."

"Humph! Yes; I did. But you may answer now. You do find me very severe?"

"Yes, sir; very."

"And you don't like me?"

"No, sir."

"Humph! That's frank, sir. But I like it. Shall I tell you why you don't like me? I will. Because I do my duty rigidly. Now one word more. Don't say a word to your messmates about what I tell you now. It's our secret, Mr Belton; and don't presume upon it, and go backwards."

"I'll try not, sir."

"Good. Then look here. You have been a very short time on board, and I have often found fault with you; but I like to be just. On the whole, Mr Belton, I am very much pleased with your conduct. I felt prejudiced against you, as I was afraid I was to have an addition to my young monkeys in the shape of a spoiled, petted boy. I was ignorant then, for I did not know Captain Belton so well as I do now. There: go to your duties. You are awkward, clumsy, ignorant, and sadly wanting; but you have got on wonderfully, and I think you will turn out a very smart officer before you have done. That will do."

Sydney wanted to say a great deal, but he felt that he was dismissed, and he left the deck and went down below, to avoid his messmates.

Not an easy task, for they were after him directly.

"This isn't the way to the mast-head," cried Jenks.

"Want the rope and the biscuit?" said Bolton.

"What have you been doing?" cried Roylance.

"Nearly everything that's wrong."

"Then he has been wigging you?"

"Yes."

"I know. It's because you didn't touch your hat to him the other day," said another of the boys.

Sydney was going to speak, but he caught sight of Terry lounging towards them, and that made him reticent.

Time glided on, and then came the cry, "Land ho!" with everybody ready to gaze eagerly at the low-looking cloud lying far away on the water where sea and sky met. This cloud gradually assumed the appearance of land, and Sydney gazed wonderingly at the island of Barbadoes, and began to ask himself whether he would be able to get leave to go ashore.

But there was no landing allowed. The stay was too brief, and before long they were sailing away toward the wonderful chain of islands that lie in the intensely blue Caribbean Sea.

Jamaica at last, after a long calm, a name associated in Sydney's mind with sugar, molasses, and rum. But to the great disappointment of all on board, there was to be no landing; even there the middies having to be content to buy cocoa-nuts, oranges, and sweetmeats off the black women whose boats hovered about the anchored frigate.

There was a sister ship lying here, the Orion, just fresh in from a cruise round the islands, and the two captains were in constant communication, for here it proved to be, and not at Barbadoes, that Captain Belton was to open his sealed orders and learn definitely what were to be his next steps.

What they were to be troubled the midshipmen very little, for there they were at anchor at what seemed to be a paradise—all waving grass, blue mountain, rivulet, and sunshine. An island of beauty set in an amethyst sea.

"And we can't go ashore," cried Jenkins. "I've a good mind to swim for it."

"One mouthful for the first shark," said Roylance.

"Eh, what? sharks? No sharks here, are there?"

"Harbour swarms with them."

"Gammon!"

"Ask any of the men who have been here before, then," said Roylance.

"But, really, Roy? No gammon!"

"It's a fact, I tell you. Try it, if you doubt me."

"N-no," said Jenkins, coolly; "you see one would have to swim in one's uniform, and get ashore so wet."

"Naturally," said Roylance, laughing.

"No," said Jenkins, "I wouldn't swim ashore naturally. Looks so bad. I'll stop aboard."

"Hullo, Bolton; what's the matter?" cried another of the middies. "Asked leave?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"Said he'd mast-head the next fellow who asked leave to go ashore."

"Strikes me we're off somewhere directly," said Roylance. "Let's send Belton into the cabin to ask his father what he's going to do."

"I shouldn't like to be Belt then," said Jenkins. "Fancy the captain's face. Hullo! What's that?"

"Somebody coming on board."

"No! it's up anchor. We're off again."

"What a shame!" was chorussed; but the disappointment was forgotten directly in eagerness to know their new destination, somewhere else evidently in the deep blue western sea, and as the Orion was weighing anchor too, it was likely that they were going to have stirring times.

"Two trim frigates," said Roylance, as they leaned over the taffrail and watched the beautiful receding shore. "Ah, Belt, if we were to meet those Mounseers now, I don't think your father would run away."



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

The fort of Saint Jacques, in La Haute, looked strong enough to keep almost any squadron at bay; and as the Sirius lay pretty close in, those on board could see the French flag flying upon the solid square citadel, below which, and running out like arms, were outworks which seemed to bristle with cannon beside the low, cunningly-contrived batteries on the rocks near the entrance of the harbour.

"A strong place, Bracy," said the captain, "and one where they ought to be able to sink any vessels we could bring against them."

"Yes, sir, if we went at it hammer-and-tongs, shot for shot."

"Exactly," said the captain, thoughtfully, as he held his glass to his eye, "and they would have English oak to fire at, while we had to send our shot against stone. Ye-es, a quiet combined attack some night with a few hundred determined men in our boats, and we ought to take the place without firing a shot."

"That's it, sir," said the first lieutenant; "and the only way."

"But I don't like that," said the captain.

"That stone, sir," replied the first lieutenant, as he looked back at an isolated patch of rock which rose up like the top of a mountain behind them about four miles astern. "That would be an ugly spot for annoying us if they had had the gumption to stick a couple of guns there. It would harass the attack terribly."

"The wonder is, that they have not fortified the rock as an outwork to their fort."

"Frenchmen don't think of everything, sir," said the lieutenant, dryly.

"We must seize that rock, Bracy," said the captain, decisively. "I'll communicate with the Orion my intentions at once."

Signals were made, a boat lowered down, and communications passed between the two commanding officers; and then Captain Belton gave orders for an exploring party to go and try and land on the rock, and see what its capabilities were for occupation.

The second lieutenant received the instructions; the first cutter's crew was piped up, and as the lieutenant was about to assume his command, he caught sight of an eager-looking face.

"Well, Mr Belton," he said, kindly. "Want to go?"

"Oh yes, sir," said Syd, eagerly.

"In with you, my lad."

Syd wanted no second invitation, and the next minute he was seated in the stern-sheets looking back at the side of the frigate, as the men's oars dipped regularly, and the boat gently rose and fell as she glided over the smooth water.

The rock had a wonderful attraction for Sydney, as it rose clear out of the bright blue water; and as he lay back and half-closed his eyes, it was easy to imagine that it was the ruins of some old castle rising up with walls tier after tier to a height of about a hundred and fifty feet, with only a place here and there shelving down to the level of the water, the rock rising up for the most part perpendicularly from the deep sea which rose against the time and water-worn sides to fall back in sparkling foam.

"What are we coming here for, Mr Dallas?" said Syd, in a low tone.

"To survey the rock, and see if it will do for occupation."

"But nobody would want to live here, sir."

"More likely have to die here, my lad. But we sailors are not allowed to ask questions. We are told to do things, and we do them."

"I only wanted to know," said Syd, apologetically.

"I was not finding fault, Belton. Now, let me see; we've got to land. Where's the best place?"

As he spoke he altered the direction of the boat, which he kept a short distance from where the sea broke, and steered right round the rock, while his companion divided his time between examining the various ledges and gazing into the transparent depths below.

It was soon evident that landing would be rather difficult, only two places suggesting themselves as being feasible; one being like a rough pier, the other a spot where masses of coral rock run down into the sea, with here and there awkward, jagged-looking, scattered pieces showing their heads, sometimes just level with the water, and at others being completely covered.

After the boat had been completely round the rock, which apparently covered a space of some acres, the young officer gave the word, and the lead was thrown over to try for soundings and the possibility of there being good anchorage for a ship that might want to lay off the edge. But the lead went down, down, down to the end of the line wherever it was cast, even close in to the rock, indicating that it rose up almost steeple-like from profound depths.

"Soon settled that point, Mr Belton," said the lieutenant. "The next thing is to land. Back in, my lads, on the swell, and as soon as we jump off pull clear again. I think we can do it yonder where the tuft of green weed is growing."

The men obeyed, and after one or two cautious approaches, the young officer, who had carefully watched his time, sprang from the thwart before him right on to the rock, made a second bound, and was clear of the following wave before it had time to flood the natural pier.

"Now, Mr Belton, can you do that?"

For answer, as the boat was again backed in, Syd leaped out, but did not calculate his time well, and sprang into a few inches of water, which went flying amidst the laughter of the men. But the next spring took him up alongside Mr Dallas.

"A little too soon, Belton," he said. "Now, one of you lads come too. Keep her well off, coxswain; sometimes a good roller comes unexpectedly, and if you are not prepared she may be thrown high and dry, stove in."

"Ay, ay, sir," shouted the coxswain. Then the man told leaped ashore easily enough, and the primary survey of the place began.

It was not an easy task, for from the few square yards of level stone where they stood there seemed to be no means of getting farther, till Syd suggested that if they could get up a bit of wall-like rock there was a ledge from which they could work themselves sideways to a rift in the side over the sea, and from that perhaps they could get higher.

"But we must be careful; it is only a few inches, and if we lose our hold, down we go into deep water."

"It would only be a bathe, sir," said Syd, laughing.

"Oh, I don't mind the bath, Belton. I am thinking there may be hungry sharks about."

"Ugh!" ejaculated Syd, with a shudder, as he glanced at the clear blue water.

"No fear of a fall though, if we are careful."

"Beg pardon, sir; I could get along there," said the man.

"Yes, my lad; but I'll try it first," said the lieutenant; and he was about to start along the perilous little shelf after a short climb, when Syd suggested that they should have a line thrown to them from the boat.

"Good idea, Belton," said the lieutenant, who hailed the boat, now lying fifty yards away, and she came in; the rope was thrown to them, made fast about Syd's chest, and while the lieutenant and the sailor held the slack ready to pay out, the boy clambered on about twenty feet, and then stepped boldly out upon the narrow shelf in the face of the almost perpendicular rock, crept carefully along to the rift, and entered it to come back and shout all right.

With Syd holding the rope tightly round the edge of the cleft, and the sailor keeping it fast, the lieutenant had no difficulty in getting along; the sailor followed, and they passed along a natural passage to where the rock sloped away sufficiently for them to mount again to a fairsized ledge, from the end of which there was a ridge of broken rock giving foothold for climbers. This they surmounted, Syd going up first like a goat, and holding the rope for his officer, and lowering it in turn for the sailor.

"Why, Belton," said Mr Dallas, "this place is a natural fortress. All we should have to do would be to make parapets, and mount some guns. It's a little Gibraltar in its way."

They went on exploring, or rather climbing from block to block and ledge to ledge, till after some little difficulty the summit was reached, from which the lieutenant signalled with a handkerchief, an acknowledgment being seen from the ship.

The top was a slope of some twenty by thirty yards, and from here as they looked about over the edge a better idea of the capabilities of the place could be formed, and they looked down on what only needed a little of the work of man to make the place impregnable so long as there was no treachery from within.

The great peculiarity of the rock was, that from where they stood they could gaze down into a chasm beyond which rose a mass similar to that on which they stood. In fact, roughly speaking, the stony mount seemed to have been cleft or split in twain, giving it somewhat the aspect of a bishop's mitre, save that the lower part between the cleft expanded till it reached the sea.

"Well," said the lieutenant, in a satisfied tone, as they climbed down into the chasm, and gazed from the bottom out at either end toward the sea, in the one case to see the Sirius lying with her masts describing arcs on the blue sky; in the other case the white houses and port of Saint Jacques. "Well, Belton, if I had been set to work to design a rock upon which to plant a fort, I could never have schemed so good a one as this."

"Why?" said Syd, in his outspoken way. "It's very awkward to get up unless you make some stairs."

"The more awkward the worse for an enemy. But can't you see, my lad, we can mount our guns on platforms at either end of this tiny valley; and stow our men, stores, and ammunition there in the bottom of the rift. Nothing can reach them from outside. Gibraltar's nothing to it."

"Isn't it?" said Syd, who felt that he ought to say something.

"No, my boy, nothing. There's one thing though—I don't see water."

"Water?" said Syd, laughing, as he looked round at the sea.

"Drinking water, sir. An enemy would have very little difficulty in taking a fort where the defenders have no water. Must make a cistern and store some up. Come along."

He led the way, and they descended without much difficulty to a spot from whence it seemed possible to mount the other mass of rock, up which they toiled with more difficulty, for in some places it nearly approached the perpendicular. Had it not been for a series of rough cracks or splits in the side, some of which seemed to descend to vast depths, but whose edges gave good foothold, the ascent would have been impossible.

They reached the top, through a little mutual help, signalled again, and after gazing down into the chasm, which the lieutenant looked upon as a splendid find, they slowly went down to the little natural pier, the boat was carefully backed in, the sailor leaped lightly from the wet rock on to the gunwale, and then stepped into his place.

"Now you, Mr Belton," said the lieutenant; "and don't get wet this time."

"No," said Syd, "I'll time it better;" and he let the sea flood the rock as the boat rose high, and then descend twice before he made this attempt.

"Now then!" cried the lieutenant, as the wave glided back from the rough surface, and the boat's stern was seen descending easily a few feet away.

Syd trotted over the wet rock with the water flying up and glittering in the sunshine at every step, reached the edge, and sprang lightly on to the gunwale just as the boat was at its lowest. Nothing in fact could have been better timed, but he had not calculated upon one thing.

The sailor had left the edge of the boat wet, and Syd's shoes were soaked and slippery, so that one of them glided sidewise; there was no chance of recovery, and he went down headlong into the deep. It was so sudden that he was below the surface with the water thundering in his ears almost before he was aware that he had fallen. But he was a good swimmer, and had practised diving often enough, and he knew that he had only to take a few strokes to rise clear of the boat, and then a few more in order to be taken in.

As he swam below after going down some distance he was aware of what seemed to be a black cloud over his head, which he knew was the boat; then he was rising again through the sunlit water, and as his head rose into the sunshine a cold chill of horror paralysed every energy, for he knew that he was almost within the jaws of death.

It was all so rapid that he hardly knew how it took place; but he had been long enough at sea to know that the long, thin, curved shadow approaching him was a huge shark, and that before he could reach the boat the monster would have seized him.

He was conscious of a wild shouting in the boat, of the rapid beating of oars which made the water fly up in fountains; then, as he swam with all his might, of a violent blow on the shoulder followed by a jerk, and then half insensible from the shock he was being dragged over the boat's side.

Amid the babel of voices that ensued, Syd made out a few words here and there.

One man said: "It's broke my arm a'most; the beggar made such a jerk."

"It's broke this oar," growled a well-known voice. "I give it him just in the jaws as he turned over."

"Ah!" said one of the men, "if that had been steel 'stead o' wood you'd ha' gone right through him."

"Yes," growled the boatswain, "'stead o' having a broken oar. Well, if the skipper says I must pay for it, why I must."

"Yah! nonsense!" muttered another. "What, arter saving his boy's life?"

All this brought back to Syd's memory matters which he had seen dimly in the exciting moments during which he was saved from a horrible death; and that which he had not seen, imagination and the men's words supplied. But he could recall something of a sturdy man standing up in the boat and making a thrust at the shark, and while he was realising that this man was Barney, one of the sailors said—

"And if I hadn't ketched hold o' you, Mr Bo'sun, by the waistband o' your breeches, you'd ha' gone overboard, and Jack shark would have had you."

"Ay, my lad, he would," growled Barney; "but I don't believe he'd a liked me, for I must be precious tough by now."

"Say, lads," said another voice, "what's the reward for saving a bo'sun's life?"

"Nothing," said Barney. "'Sides, you've on'y stopped somebody's promotion. Steady there!"

At that moment, as Syd lay there with a misty feeling of confusion troubling him, it seemed from the rocking of the boat that the lieutenant had leaped on board, and the next moment he was kneeling down, and his hands were busy about Syd.

"Belton, my dear lad," he said, excitedly, "where are you hurt?"

Syd looked at him wildly, and saw him through the mist.

"Hurt?" he said, after making an effort to speak, and feeling deathly sick the while, "I—I don't know."

"Great heavens!" cried the lieutenant, "I would sooner it had been me. But I see no blood, bo'sun."

"No, sir; I've been agoin' over him," growled Barney; "and he's got all his arms, and legs, and, yes, his head's all right. You see I shoved that oar in Jack's mouth just as he turned over to grab him."

"But the boy is half dead."

"Ketched him a horful crack with his snout, I think it weer, sir; for, poor dear lad, he were knocked side wise. He'll come round."

All this time it was to Syd just as if the lieutenant and the boatswain were moving about over him in a mist; but as some water was splashed in his face, and his brows were bathed, the mist slowly passed away, and he suddenly struggled up into a sitting position.

"That's better," cried the lieutenant, eagerly. "Are you in pain?"

"Shoulder hurts a little, sir," said Syd, huskily; "but where's the shark?"

"Yonder, sir," said the boatswain, pointing to about fifty yards away, where a something that looked like a thick miniature lateen sail was gliding through the water.

"A narrow escape, Belton," said the lieutenant; "but you are saved, thank heaven. Give way, my men."

"Arn't we going to try and serve out Master Jack, sir?" said one of the men.

"No, my lad. What can we do without bait or line?"

"Like to spritsail-yard him, sir?" said Strake, touching his hat.

"What's spritsail-yarding?" said Syd, who was now trying to squeeze some of the water out of his drenched uniform.

"Ketching your shark and then running a little spar through his nose," whispered the bo'sun, as the men gave way and the boat surged through the water. "This here's lashed so as he can't get it out, and it keeps him from sinking, as he moves it afore him."

"But it's horribly cruel," said Syd, pausing in his wringing process.

"Well, 'tarn't nice for him, sir," said the boatswain; "but then you see it's cruel of Master Jack to be taking off arms and legs, and it stops that, sir."

This argument was unanswerable for the moment, and just then another shark was sighted, and its appearance fascinated Syd, who shuddered as he gazed at the monster, and thought of the horrible fate he had escaped.

"I wonder what father will say to me when he learns of my adventure," he said to himself.

But he had very little more time for thought, the boat soon being alongside; the falls were hooked on, and they were soon after swinging from the davits.

The first person Syd's eyes rested upon was Terry, whose face expanded into a grin as he saw the middy's drenched condition, and the boy turned away angrily, to see if he could catch his father's eye. But he only saw Lieutenant Dallas making his report on the quarter-deck, and his father standing there with a glass in his hand, which he directed at the rock, then seemed to give some orders, and the lieutenant saluted and came away.



CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

"Why, Belton, not changing your duds?" said the lieutenant, as he returned from his colloquy with his commanding officer.

"No, sir; just going to. Did my—did the captain know I was nearly seized by that shark?"

"Yes; I told him."

"What did he say, sir?"

"That you were to be more careful."

Syd stared.

"Was that all, sir?"

"Yes, my lad. I think he said something about you'd grow more clever by and by. But go and get on some dry things."

Syd felt crestfallen and hurt, that after such a terrific adventure his father should be so cool.

But down below the news had already spread, and as he went to the berth to change his things, a knot of his messmates were ready and eager to question him for the endorsement of what they had heard from the boatswain and the men.

He told what he had to tell rather unwillingly, and when he had done regretted that he had said a word, for the careless young dogs only laughed.

"That wasn't half an adventure," cried Bolton. "You should have drawn your dirk, dived under him, and slit him up. That's what the niggers do."

"Yes," said Jenkins, "or else have had hold of his tail, and made him tow you. I would."

"Why, Jenky," cried Roylance, "he'd have taken you like a pill."

"I believe," cried Syd, angrily, "that you'd all have liked it better if I'd come back with one leg snapped off."

"Yes," sneered Terry, who was laughing by the door.

"No, no," cried Jenkins, maliciously. "Mike Terry would have liked to see him without any fistusses."

"Why?" said Roylance.

"'Cause he could lick him then."

"I'll put that down in my log, Baby," said Terry, with an ugly laugh. "You're getting deeply in my debt, and you'll have to pay, or I shall have to pay you."

"Oh, lor'," cried the little middy, diving under the table in mock alarm, and then slowly raising his head up on the other side, to peer at Terry. "What would become of me if I hadn't a good banker."

"Who's your banker, Baby?" said Roylance, mockingly.

"Syd Belton there," and there was a laugh.

Terry ground his teeth together, as he turned away and went on deck, followed by a roar of laughter.

"Look here, I say," cried Syd, who bore his honours very mildly, "you shouldn't tease Terry like that, Jenkins; he'll serve you out for it some day."

"He daren't. I should come to you."

"And I shouldn't help you, for you'd deserve it."

"Very well," said the little fellow, "I'd fight my own battle. Who's afraid? Cock-a-doodle-do!"

He gave a clever imitation of a pugnacious game-cock, after clapping his hands against his sides.

"Terry wouldn't touch him," said Roylance, laughing. "Little people are licenced to be saucy. But I say, Belton, what's the rock like?"

Syd described it as well as he could, and he was listened to with eager attention, but it did not seem probable to Roylance that anything further would come of it.

He was undeceived the next morning though, for after signalling and visiting of the two commanders, it appeared that something definite was to be done, and soon after the stir began.

"Here, Belton," said Roylance, "what do you say to this? I believe we're going to attack the town."

Contradiction came the next moment in the excitement on deck.

"This means business," said Roylance, as he stood with Syd, watching the carrying out of certain orders; and in due time two long guns were placed ready, the barge and the launch were lowered down, and gun-carriages and tackle were hoisted down into each.

The men worked well, for this was a change from the monotony of cruising to and fro on the look-out for ships which never came, or which when overhauled only proved to be friends.

The sea was like glass, and in the course of the next few hours the guns were got ashore, shears being erected on the rock, and the heavy masses of metal and their carriages were landed, beside a good deal of other material likely to be useful in occupying the rock.

And all this while great excitement prevailed as to who were to be the lucky ones told off for the garrison, as it was laughingly called. But they were not long kept in doubt, for it was soon whispered that Lieutenant Dallas was to be in charge, with about a dozen men and a junior officer or two.

Who were to be the junior officers, was the question at the mess, the prevailing decision arrived at being that Bolton and Baby Jenks were the pair.

Early next morning the crews of the barge and second cutter were piped away, and a busy scene followed, as barrels and cases were handed down, till the boats were well-laden, and then there was a cessation, the crews evidently waiting for their orders.

It was a glorious day, and after looking at the men selected, Sydney gazed longingly at the stack of things lying on the rock, covered with a couple of sails and some tarpaulin, which, in case of wind arising, were kept down by casks planted on their corners.

The place looked very tempting to Sydney, though he could not help a shudder running through him as he gazed at the little natural pier, which the sea kept flooding and leaving bare.

"I dare say there are plenty of sharks hanging about," he said; and once more the accident seemed to repeat itself vividly.

He had soon something else to think about, for he saw Lieutenant Dallas come out of the captain's cabin, where he had evidently been to receive his orders, which was the case, and they were simple enough.

"The rock would be invaluable to an enemy, Mr Dallas," the captain had said; "and if they occupied it, as the only safe channel to the port lies close by, they could annoy us fearfully, perhaps sink one of our vessels, and to storm such a place would mean terrible loss of life. So you will occupy it and hold it at all hazards. Either I or my consort will communicate as often as we can, and you shall be well supplied with stores before those you have get low."

"I understand, sir," said Dallas; "and I will hold the rock to the last."

"Your courage may not be put to the test, Mr Dallas," said the captain. "Au revoir. Make yourself and your men as comfortable as you can. I have been ashore and examined the place."

"You have, sir?"

"Yes, I went in the night, and I am quite satisfied that it can be held against any odds. Good-bye."

He shook hands, and the young lieutenant went out, wondering how the captain could have managed, and then hurried to the side to see if the last arrangements had been made.

He was busy over this, having passed near to Syd without taking any notice of him, much to the lad's annoyance, for he had tried to catch the lieutenant's eye.

At this moment Roylance came along toward where he was standing, but he paid no heed, for something else had taken his attention.

The boatswain had come on deck, and made his way to the side, where he touched his hat to Lieutenant Dallas, and then proceeded to obey some orders which he had received. Syd was about to intercept him, his longing to be one of the party increasing.

"I wouldn't care," he said to himself, "if they'd let me help land the stores. I did go out first, and here I've been left out of all the fun because I slipped and went overboard. It's too bad."

He was hurrying after the boatswain, when something else caught his eye. A member of the mess came fussing up on deck, fuming with importance, and Syd turned and was uttering some angry expression, when he found himself face to face with Roylance.