And here it may as well be stated that in planting his garrison on the rock, it had been the intention of Captain Belton—an idea endorsed by his consort—to let a party of his men hold the place, so as to keep any party from Saint Jacques from taking possession, and from thence annoying his ships. Such a venture could only be made with boats from the town, and these he felt that it would be easy for the little garrison to beat off. It never entered into his calculations that the rock could be attacked by a man-of-war, for he and his consort would be there watching the channel which led up to the town, and theirs would be the duty to repel any formidable attack.
The gale, which had risen to a hurricane, changed all this, and that upon which the captain did not count had come to pass.
For a French frigate was sailing steadily up the broad channel—a vessel whose captain was evidently quite at home among the coral reefs and shoals which spread far and near, and its nearing was watched with eager eyes.
From time to time Roylance was sent to report the state of affairs to Mr Dallas, who lay on his rough couch, apparently quite calm and confident, but with a red patch burning in either cheek, as he bitterly felt his helplessness and inability to do more than give a word or two of advice. But this advice he did give, when the frigate was about a mile off.
“We are so weak here,” he said to Roylance, “that Mr Belton had better keep his men well out of sight, and not invite inquiry or molestation. The vessel may not be coming here, and if they see no one will pass on.”
Roylance communicated this to Syd.
“But there is one thing they will see,” he said.
“What?”
“The flagstaff.”
“Yes; I had forgotten that, and it is too late to take it down; the men would be seen.”