“Yes, directly.—Roylance, will you see to making a platform and running up a breastwork, while the bo’sun gets down the gun?”
All hands were soon at work, and meanwhile Syd had gone up to the flagstaff with a glass to see that the boat was half-way back to the French frigate.
“What will they do?” thought Syd. “Make sail and come and batter us with their guns, or send out three or four boats?”
He waited patiently till the Frenchmen were alongside, and he watched the officers through the glass go on the quarter-deck and make their report to their captain.
“Now, then,” said Syd, half-aloud, “which is it to be—boats, or come up abreast of us?”
“Make sail, sir,” said Rogers. “They’re coming down on us to give us a dusting with their guns. There’ll be some chips o’ rock flying far to-night.—And something more for you to do, my lad,” he muttered to himself, as he recalled the lieutenant’s injury.
Syd made no answer, and stood watching the French vessel’s sails gradually begin to fill and make her careen over.
“Here she comes,” said Rogers; then, respectfully, “They won’t have half time to get that gun into place, will they, sir?”
“No, Rogers, no,” said Syd, thoughtfully; “but look, she’s changing her course.”
It was so indeed, for the French frigate curved gracefully around, and went off on her old course toward the town of Saint Jacques.