Part 43 (1/2)
”No! it's up anchor. We're off again.”
”What a shame!” was chorussed; but the disappointment was forgotten directly in eagerness to know their new destination, somewhere else evidently in the deep blue western sea, and as the _Orion_ was weighing anchor too, it was likely that they were going to have stirring times.
”Two trim frigates,” said Roylance, as they leaned over the taffrail and watched the beautiful receding sh.o.r.e. ”Ah, Belt, if we were to meet those Mounseers now, I don't think your father would run away.”
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
The fort of Saint Jacques, in La Haute, looked strong enough to keep almost any squadron at bay; and as the _Sirius_ lay pretty close in, those on board could see the French flag flying upon the solid square citadel, below which, and running out like arms, were outworks which seemed to bristle with cannon beside the low, cunningly-contrived batteries on the rocks near the entrance of the harbour.
”A strong place, Bracy,” said the captain, ”and one where they ought to be able to sink any vessels we could bring against them.”
”Yes, sir, if we went at it hammer-and-tongs, shot for shot.”
”Exactly,” said the captain, thoughtfully, as he held his gla.s.s to his eye, ”and they would have English oak to fire at, while we had to send our shot against stone. Ye-es, a quiet combined attack some night with a few hundred determined men in our boats, and we ought to take the place without firing a shot.”
”That's it, sir,” said the first lieutenant; ”and the only way.”
”But I don't like that,” said the captain.
”That stone, sir,” replied the first lieutenant, as he looked back at an isolated patch of rock which rose up like the top of a mountain behind them about four miles astern. ”That would be an ugly spot for annoying us if they had had the gumption to stick a couple of guns there. It would hara.s.s the attack terribly.”
”The wonder is, that they have not fortified the rock as an outwork to their fort.”
”Frenchmen don't think of everything, sir,” said the lieutenant, dryly.
”We must seize that rock, Bracy,” said the captain, decisively. ”I'll communicate with the _Orion_ my intentions at once.”
Signals were made, a boat lowered down, and communications pa.s.sed between the two commanding officers; and then Captain Belton gave orders for an exploring party to go and try and land on the rock, and see what its capabilities were for occupation.
The second lieutenant received the instructions; the first cutter's crew was piped up, and as the lieutenant was about to a.s.sume his command, he caught sight of an eager-looking face.
”Well, Mr Belton,” he said, kindly. ”Want to go?”
”Oh yes, sir,” said Syd, eagerly.
”In with you, my lad.”
Syd wanted no second invitation, and the next minute he was seated in the stern-sheets looking back at the side of the frigate, as the men's oars dipped regularly, and the boat gently rose and fell as she glided over the smooth water.
The rock had a wonderful attraction for Sydney, as it rose clear out of the bright blue water; and as he lay back and half-closed his eyes, it was easy to imagine that it was the ruins of some old castle rising up with walls tier after tier to a height of about a hundred and fifty feet, with only a place here and there shelving down to the level of the water, the rock rising up for the most part perpendicularly from the deep sea which rose against the time and water-worn sides to fall back in sparkling foam.
”What are we coming here for, Mr Dallas?” said Syd, in a low tone.
”To survey the rock, and see if it will do for occupation.”
”But n.o.body would want to live here, sir.”
”More likely have to die here, my lad. But we sailors are not allowed to ask questions. We are told to do things, and we do them.”
”I only wanted to know,” said Syd, apologetically.