Syd Belton Part 32

"Look here, youngsters, I want to go to sleep, and I'll come and cut down the next fellow who makes a row."

"Yah!"

"Boo!"

"Daren't!"

These e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns came tauntingly from different parts, but in smothered tones, which indicated that the voices were disguised, and after a few more threats from Roylance, there was perfect quiet once more in the berth.

"So I'm not to sleep," thought Sydney, "but keep guard and wait for whoever it was that cut the cords of my hammock. A nasty cowardly trick."

The fall and its following had so thoroughly roused up the sufferer that he felt not the slightest inclination to sleep, and feeling that he could easily keep awake and hear any one approach, he lay listening to the hard breathing on both sides till all grew more and more subdued; and though it was pitch dark the surroundings grew misty and strange, and Syd lay listening to a strange sound which made him turn his head in the direction of the door, towards where he could see a st.u.r.dily-built young fellow down on his hands and knees, crawling in as easily as a dog. Now he peered to one side, now to the other. Then he ran on all fours under the hammocks, which seemed to stand out quite clearly with their occupants therein. Then his head appeared, and it seemed, though he could not make out the face, that it was Terry. But the head disappeared again, and as Syd watched he felt that his hammock was the object in view, and in his dread he started to find that all was intensely dark and that he had been dreaming all this.

It was very hot, and there was heavy breathing all around, but not another sound, so feeling once more that it would be impossible to sleep, and that he might as well be on guard, Syd kept his vigil for quite five minutes, and then, as was perfectly natural, went off fast asleep again, to lie until it seemed to him that there was a crash of thunder, and then all was blank.

"Here, hi! Sentry! Bring a lantern. It's a mean, cowardly act, and I'll complain to the first lieutenant."

The roar of laughter which had been going on, mingled with comments, ceased at this, and was succeeded by a low buzzing sound, which seemed to Syd to be close to his ears as he saw a dim light, felt horribly sleepy, and as if his head ached violently.

"It's too bad. The other was only a game. The poor fellow's head's cut and bleeding, and whoever did this is a mean-spirited coward, and no gentleman."

"Shall I go and rouse up the doctor, sir?"

"No; we'll bind it up, and keep it all quiet. There'd be no end of trouble if the captain knew. I only wish I knew who did it, cutting a fellow down by the head like this."

Syd tried to speak, but he was like one in a dream.

"If I knew who it was--" said Roylance.

"What would you do?" said a voice, which Syd seemed to recognise; "go and tell his daddy?"

"No; I'd tell him he was a mean-spirited, cowardly hound," said Roylance, "and not fit for the society of gentlemen."

"Hark at the bishop's boy, I dare say he did it himself."

"Just the sort of thing I should do!" replied Roylance, sharply. "More likely one of Mike Terry's brutal tricks."

"Oh, very well, Master Roy. You and I can talk that over another time.

So you mean to say I did it?"

Roylance did not answer, and just then Sydney recovered his voice, the faintness pa.s.sing away like a cloud. "Was it he?" whispered the boy.

"I'm not sure," whispered Roylance. "Don't quarrel because of me. Does my head bleed now?"

"No; I've tied my handkerchief tightly round it. Lie still, you'll be better soon.--Here, marine, knot up that hammock again. You shan't be cut down again, for I'll keep watch."

"There's nothing the matter," said Terry, from the other end of the berth; "it's only one of Miss Roylance's fads. Currying favour with the skipper by making a pet monkey of his boy."

Roylance ground his teeth, and Syd lay very quiet listening, and watching the marine as he knotted together the broken lines, helping him in afterwards, and going away with the lantern.

"Don't wait," whispered Syd; "it's very good of you, but I'm not hurt much. They cut the ropes up by my head, didn't they?"

"Yes; the cowards! But I don't think they'll touch you again now.

Shall I stop?"

"No; don't, please. I may as well take my chance."

"Very well," said Roylance, and he went back to his own hammock amongst the remarks and laughs of those who, from liking or dread, had made themselves the parasites of the leader of the mess.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

Syd started into wakefulness in the morning to find that he had been sleeping heavily. His head ached a little, and when he moved there was a smarting sensation, but he felt disturbed mentally more than in body.

He turned out of his hammock and dressed as quickly as the new stiff b.u.t.tonholes of his uniform would allow, all the time suffering from a sensation of misery and discomfort which made his temper anything but amiable.

"How's your head?" said Roylance, who was one of the last to wake.

"Bad--sore--aches."

"Let me look."

Syd submitted himself unwillingly.

"Only wants a bathe, and a bit of plaister. I'll see to that."

The dressing was finished, the hammocks rolled up, and Syd was wondering how long breakfast would be, and what they should have. Terry, who was strolling about the place watching him furtively, suddenly stood aside, the others watching him.

At that moment Roylance came down into his berth with a pair of scissors and some sticking-plaister.

"Here you are," he said. "I'll just cut a little of the hair away, and put a bit of this on. It won't show under your hat."

"All right," said Syd, sitting down in the middle of the place on the top of his sea-chest; "but you needn't have fetched that. I had some in here."

"Do for next time," said Roylance, cutting off a large piece of plaister.

"Oh, nonsense," said Syd, laughing; "a quarter of that would do. I could do it myself if I could see."

Just then Terry came swaggering up, and Roylance winced, the scissors with which he was cutting the plaister trembling a little.

"Oh, look here, Master Roy," said Terry, haughtily. "You made some remarks to me in the night about that cutting down of the hammock. I want an apology from you."

"I'm busy now, Mr Terry," said Roylance; and the irritable feeling which troubled Syd seemed to be on the increase.

"I didn't ask you if you were busy, sir, I said I wanted an apology,"

continued Terry, while the rest of the mess looked on excitedly at the promising quarrel between the two eldest middies on board the _Sirius_.

"I'm attending to this new messmate's hurt."

"Let him go to the doctor if he is hurt," snarled Terry. "I tell you I want an apology. You as good as said that I cut down this cub's hammock last night."