“What does that mean, sir?” said Syd, as he told all this to the lieutenant, who, as he lay helpless, eagerly listened to every word.
“I don’t quite see, my lad,” he said. “A trick, probably, to take off your attention. But be well on your guard, for, depend upon it, they will try to surprise you to-night, and come prepared with ladders of some kind for the escalade.”
Chapter Forty Four.
The night was brilliant starlight, and the strictest watch was kept, but hour after hour went by, and there was not a sound; no dark shadow creeping over the water from the frigate, which lay anchored, with her lights showing reflections on the smooth sea.
Everything was in readiness to give the enemy a good reception if they came, and in spite of his weakness, the boatswain rose from where he lay on a folded-up sail beside one of the heaps of ball, to see if the light in the lanthorn by his head was burning, and handy for the slow matches to fire the guns.
“That there swab has gone down into his old hole by the water, sir, so as to save his skin,” said Strake, on one of the occasions when Syd was going his rounds, “and here he might be o’ no end of use saving his poor father. You won’t say I arn’t to use the rope’s-end arter this, sir.”
“Hadn’t you better go up to the hospital and lie down, Strake?” replied Syd; “you are tired out.”
“So are you, sir: so’s all on us. But if I went and had a caulk just when the enemy might come, what should I say arterwards when I met the skipper?”