Syd Belton Part 40

"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. n.o.body 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 s.h.i.+ps, 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. Gla.s.ses were levelled, and before long a second s.h.i.+p 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 suns.h.i.+ne, 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 s.h.i.+p 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 s.h.i.+p's course was altered, and in a short time the _Sirius_ was rus.h.i.+ng 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 s.h.i.+ps 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 s.h.i.+p 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 s.h.i.+ning 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 pa.s.sed, 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-gla.s.s.

"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 mids.h.i.+pmen'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?"