"Never mind; I'll put 'em right for you. There you are; turn in, and I
don't suppose any one will upset you after to-night. If anybody comes,
and you hear him, hit out."
"Thank you," said Syd, rather dolefully; "I will."
He climbed into his hammock again, and listened to the rustling sound
made by Roylance and the remarks of his messmates.
"Baby Jenks was right. Old Roy means to suck every shilling out of the
new fellow," said a voice.
"Does he, Bolton?" cried Roylance. "I know your voice."
"Why, I never spoke. 'Twasn't me," cried the accused.
"Well, it sounded like you," grumbled Roylance, and there was another
roar of laughter.
"Look here, youngsters, I want to go to sleep, and I'll come and cut
down the next fellow who makes a row."
"Yah!"
"Boo!"
"Daren't!"
These ejaculations came tauntingly from different parts, but in
smothered tones, which indicated that the voices were disguised, and
after a few more threats from Roylance, there was perfect quiet once
more in the berth.
"So I'm not to sleep," thought Sydney, "but keep guard and wait for
whoever it was that cut the cords of my hammock. A nasty cowardly
trick."
The fall and its following had so thoroughly roused up the sufferer that
he felt not the slightest inclination to sleep, and feeling that he
could easily keep awake and hear any one approach, he lay listening to
the hard breathing on both sides till all grew more and more subdued;
and though it was pitch dark the surroundings grew misty and strange,
and Syd lay listening to a strange sound which made him turn his head in
the direction of the door, towards where he could see a sturdily-built
young fellow down on his hands and knees, crawling in as easily as a
dog. Now he peered to one side, now to the other. Then he ran on all
fours under the hammocks, which seemed to stand out quite clearly with
their occupants therein. Then his head appeared, and it seemed, though
he could not make out the face, that it was Terry. But the head
disappeared again, and as Syd watched he felt that his hammock was the
object in view, and in his dread he started to find that all was
intensely dark and that he had been dreaming all this.
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.