This was an unexpected change in favour of the defender, for though when they were freshly come it had been noticed that the sea ran high a quarter of a mile out from the lower end of the gap, the existence of a reef was not suspected, and it was some time before the defenders could thoroughly believe that the frigate could not get into position for sweeping the little gully from end to end.
Again the frigate’s position was changed, and fire opened.
“We ought to shake hands on this,” cried Roylance. “Fire away, Monsieur, knock down the rocks; it’s all good for the powder and ball trade.”
“And doesn’t frighten us a bit,” added Syd, who for the moment forgot his important position, and its seriousness. “Haven’t you seen Terry yet?”
“No.”
“And I arn’t seen my boy Pan, gen’lemen,” said the boatswain—“My word, that was a good one,” he interpolated, as a heavy shot struck the rock about twenty feet below the flagstaff, and a good ton of stones came rattling down—“strikes me as that boy’s a-showing the white feather, gen’lemen, and it goes home to my ’art.”
“The boy’s wounded, Strake; don’t be too hard on him.”
“Not so bad but what he might ha’ done powder-monkeying with one hand. But there’s a deal o’ vartue in rope’s-ends arter all, and if I gets through to-day—”
“You’ll forgive him. What are they doing now?” Syd shouted to the man at the look-out, for the frigate was once more close in, south of the little pier, and had for half an hour been blazing away, but doing not the slightest harm.
“Getting her boats out, sir.”