Treachery or only spite, which could it be? Syd felt a sensation of
cold running through him as he raised the glass again and watched the
frigate, for he felt that perhaps after all he might have been mistaken,
and the sailor lying by him too. Terry was an officer and a gentleman.
He had a horrible temper; he was as jealous and overweening as could be,
but it seemed impossible that he could so degrade himself as to be
guilty of an act that was like a betrayal of his brother officers and
the men.
But it was no mistake as far as the frigate was concerned. She had
rounded to, her sails were beginning to flap, and amidst the scene of
bustle on deck a boat was lowered, and the next minute it was seen
gliding away from the vessel's side, filled by a smart crew whose oars
seemed to be splashing up golden water as the sun sank and got more
round. There were two officers in the stern, and now and then something
flashed which looked like weapons, and a second glance showed that they
were the swords of the officers and the guns of the marines.
"We are seen, sure enough," said Syd. "Be ready with the colours,
Rogers," he added aloud. "Hoist them the moment you hear me shout."
"Ay, ay, sir. But it may only be a bit o' _parley voo_, and no fighting
arter all."
"I hope not," thought Syd, as he hurried down the rift, avoiding Terry's
work, and making straight for the lieutenant's quarters, where he
flinched from telling of Terry's actions, and contented himself by
saying what he had seen.
"Well, Mr Belton," said the lieutenant, with a slight flush coming into
his pale face, "you are a King's officer in command, but you know the
captain's wishes; and, boy as you are, sir, you must do what we all do
under such trying circumstances--act like a man."
"And--"
Syd ceased speaking, and asked the remainder of his question with his
eyes.
"Yes, sir, fire upon them, if necessary. If that boat is from a French
man-of-war, her men must not land."
Syd drew in a long breath, nodded shortly, and was going out without a
word.
"Stop!" cried the lieutenant. "Take off that plaything, my dear lad,
and buckle on my sword. That's right, take up a hole or two in the belt
as you go. Here's a motto for your crest when you sport one,
`_Belton_--_Belt on_'! Now God bless you, my lad! Do your duty for
your own and your father's sake."
There was a quick grasp of the hand, and Syd ran out, fastening on the
sword-belt as he went, and feeling rather a curious sensation in the
throat as he mentally exclaimed--"I will."
The men were lying down by the breastwork of the lower gun as he trotted
over the slope, and to his surprise he found the boatswain seated on a
piece of stone with his face puckered up, watching Pan whom he had just
sent up to the magazine.
"Well: what news?" said Roylance, eagerly. "Are they gone?"