Chapter Forty Three.
That was an anxious night; and after a sort of council of war at the hospital, in which the lieutenant, Roylance, and Strake took part with Syd, it was determined to have all ready for a retreat to the upper battery, and in case that should be taken, provisions and water were to be carried at daybreak up to the flagstaff, where a breastwork had already been made, plenty of broken masses of rock lying about to strengthen it, so that it would be a fresh position for the crew of the French frigate to attack.
Syd was not at all surprised soon after daybreak—when the men were busy strengthening the empty battery, and others were building up the breastwork about the flagstaff and conveying up stores—to see the frigate coming back in full sail.
There was plenty of excitement as the enemy was seen, and the men thoroughly realised the fact that the day’s work before them would be no light task.
“Seems to do one more good, though, Master Syd, sir,” said Strake, as they were together alone. “Lying down, and bein’ helped, and strapped and lashed ’s all very well, but the sight o’ one’s nat’ral enemy ’pears to spurt you up like, and if it had only been a month longer, strikes me as we should have had the lufftenant helping of us again.”
“Have you seen Mr Terry about?”
“No, sir; ’pears to have struck work like. Beg pardon, sir; but seeing as some on us may be gone to Davy Jones’s locker ’fore night—not meaning you, o’ course, but him—wouldn’t it be handsome-like to go and make friends, and offer him your hand?”
“I have done so more than once, Strake,” said Syd, sternly, as he recalled the midshipman’s action on the previous day, “but I can’t do it again.”
“All right, sir, you knows best, o’ course,” said the boatswain, and he went off to his duty.
The men worked hard, and by the time the frigate was close in there were the provisions and water in the upper battery, and a good supply in the works about the flagstaff.