“But really, my man—”
“Don’t stop me, your honour, sir. How could I look his father in the face again if I didn’t lend a hand just when it’s wanted most?”
“Well, I cannot stop you, Strake,” said the lieutenant. “I only wish I could stir. I could do nothing but take up the men’s strength, and make them carry me about. Go on, Mr Belton; play a bold part, and recollect you are acting in the King’s name.”
Syd flushed up, and went to work at once. The preparations did not take long. The rope-ladder was hauled up and stowed away, the men were called to quarters, ammunition served out under the boatswain’s orders, and the guns loaded. Every man had his cutlass, and the British colours had been laid ready for hoisting at a moment’s notice.
When these arrangements had been made, Syd took Roylance and Terry into consultation, and asked them if there was anything else that could be done.
Neither could suggest anything, for the water-casks were filled, the stores were up in safety, and the men had a supply of fresh fish, in the shape of the shark just caught—a toothsome dainty that some sailors consider excellent for a change.
All was ready; every man at his post; and after buckling on his dirk, Syd thought to himself, “What an impostor I am! What impudence it is for me to pretend to command these men!”
But as he went out amongst them, somehow it did not seem as if they thought so. There was a bright eagerness in their faces, and whenever he spoke it was to be answered with a cheery “Ay, ay, sir!” and his orders were executed with alacrity.
It was a small party to command, if this should prove to be a French man-of-war come to dispute the right of the English to this rocky speck off their possessions.
But the matter was soon to be proved. From time to time Syd climbed to the flagstaff to watch the stranger, which was approaching fast, and also to sweep the distant horizon in search of help in what promised to be his dire need.