Syd rubbed his eyes and stared, while Rogers in his excitement slapped both his legs, shouting derisively—“Yah! Cowards! G’ome!” and then darted to the flagstaff and began to haul the colours down a few feet, and just as his young officer was about to stop him, seized the second line and jigged them up again in a sort of dance that was intended in mockery of the captain and crew of the departing frigate.
“That will do there,” cried Syd, sharply.
“Beg pardon, sir,” cried the sailor, starting away from the flagstaff; “but for them to go away like that. The old chaps aboard were always bragging that they could lick three Parlyvoos, but arter what I’ve seed to-day, I’m ready to tackle six. I don’t say I’d lick ’em, but I’d have a good try.”
“Don’t judge them too soon,” said Syd, quietly; and he went down to the hospital and reported everything to the lieutenant.
“Well,” he said, “what do you think of it, Mr Belton—that you’ve frightened them away with one gun?”
“No, sir; I think they’ve gone for help.”
“Or else to report, and perhaps deliver despatches.”
“Yes, sir; think we shall have them back?”
“Not a doubt about it, Mr Belton. We laugh at and brag about our superiority over the Frenchmen; but with all their chatter and gesticulation and show, they know how to fight, and can fight bravely and well. Get your other gun ready and keep the sharpest of look-outs, as they’ll be down upon you before you know where you are. What’s the matter yonder,” he continued, raising his head and listening; “Mr Terry in hot water again? We don’t want trouble among ourselves. You are wanted there, commandant.”
Syd hurried out and found Terry up by the battery he had had in charge, furiously refusing to let the men under Roylance remove the gun.