“Hide me somewhere, lads,” he whispered eagerly. There was a laugh.
“Arn’t you scared about meeting Jack Shark again, sir?” said one of the men.
“Hold your row, Jim,” said another. “This way, sir.” There was a little scuffling about, and the next minute, half fearing that he was playing ostrich and had only concealed his head, Syd was listening. He had hardly ceased moving when he heard the first lieutenant saying something to Lieutenant Dallas, who was evidently descending the side.
“I wouldn’t depend too much on that tackle. The guns are very heavy. Now, Mr Roylance; in with you.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” came in peculiar tones; and Syd felt disgusted that he should not have been able to come down into the boat in the same way, instead of sneaking in like a rat.
“Seems to be a good deal of swell on amongst these little rocks,” said the first lieutenant. “You’ll land at the other place.”
“Oh, yes,” said the second lieutenant; and from where he lay Syd could just get a glimpse of him as he stood up in the stern-sheets.
“He must have seen me,” he thought; and looking upwards, there right over the side, and quite plainly to be seen, were the head and shoulders of the first lieutenant gazing down into the boat.
Perfectly certain now that he should be shouted at for trying to get off in the boat, Sydney lay perfectly still, waiting for the unpleasant order; but oddly enough thinking at the same time that ignominious as it would be to crawl up the ladder and climb on board, he should be spared one pain—Terry would not be there to sneer at him.
“Might have been worse,” he thought, as he gathered himself together, ready to spring out and get the trouble over.