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.