Syd Belton Part 33

"If I had quite said it, I dare say I shouldn't have been far wrong,"

replied Roylance, in a low tone.

"Oh, indeed, miss," sneered Terry, "you always were clever with your tongue, like the long thin molly you are. Now then, take that back before--"

He ceased speaking and doubled his fists.

Syd felt as if he were sitting on a fire, and something within him was beginning to boil.

"I'm not going to apologise now," said Roylance, wincing a little, but speaking more determinedly than before.

"Arn't you? Then I'm going to make you," said Terry. "Bolton, go to the bottom of the ladder and give warning."

"No, no; send Jenks," said the boy addressed, appealingly.

"You go, and do as you're told," said Terry, fiercely; and Syd felt as if he must boil over soon, no matter how much he was hurt.

"Now then, Miss Roylance, if you please, I'm waiting," said Terry, in an offensive way. "You're such a talker that you can easily make a nice apology."

Roylance went on cutting and sticking the piece of plaister.

"Do you hear me, sir?" cried Terry, "or am I to set Baby Jenks to thrash you?"

"Stand up, Belton," said Roylance, quietly. "Now then, turn a little more to the light;" and Sydney rose.

"Stand aside, youngster. I want to give Miss Roylance a bit of sticking-plaister first."

As he spoke he gave Syd, who was between them, a push, whose result astounded him.

"Out of the way will you," cried Syd, fiercely; "can't you see he's busy?"

That which had been boiling in him had gone over the side at last, and Terry stopped short staring with astonishment.

"If you want to talk to him, wait till he has done my head. Better talk to me, for it was you, you great coward, who cut me down."

"Why you--oh, this is too good!" cried Terry, with a forced laugh, as he looked round at the little knot of his messmates. "There, wait a minute till I've done with Molly Roylance, and I'll soon settle your little bill."

Roylance stood looking pale and excited, with the scissors and plaister still in his hand, but on his guard ready to spring back or sidewise if attacked. Then he, like his would-be a.s.sailant, stared in astonishment.

For Syd had resumed his position between them as if about to lower his head to the light; when, feeling that if he wished to maintain his character he must act sharply against what was to him a new boy in the midshipman's mess, Terry laid hold of Syd's collar and swung him round.

"Out of the way, will you!" he said; and as the road was clear he made a spring at Roylance, but suddenly gave his head a twist, tripped over the new sea-chest that was in the way, and fell heavily.

"Oh, that's it, is it?" he cried, as he sprang to his feet. "Well, the sooner you have your lesson the better."

He began to divest himself of his upper garment as he spoke; and Syd, whose teeth were set, and whose knuckles were tingling from the effect of the blow he had planted on Terry, rapidly imitated him.

"No, no," said Roylance, excitedly; "this is my quarrel. You see fair."

"You want me to quarrel with you?" cried Syd, fiercely; "see fair yourself. Hold that."

He threw his garment to the tall slight lad, and rolled up his sleeves, to stand forth no mean antagonist for the bully, though Terry was a couple of inches taller, as many years older, and better set.

"Be ready to pick him up, Molly Roy," said Terry, sneeringly. "Get a sponge and a basin of water ready, Baby Jenks, and--"

He staggered back. For as he spoke he had begun sparring at one who was smarting with rage, and the thought that the cowardly fellow who had injured him so in the night was before him ready for him to take his revenge. Syd thought of nothing else, and the moment he was facing his adversary, clashed in at him, delivering so fierce a blow that Terry nearly went down.

Then came and went blow after blow. There was a close, a fierce struggle here and there, and both went down just as a pair of broad shoulders were seen at the door beside those of Bolton, who was keeping watch over the fight instead of the companion-ladder, and the broad shoulders and the rugged countenance were those of the new boatswain.

"Arn't lost much time," he growled.

"No. Don't stop 'em," whispered Bolton. "Let them have it out."

"Oh, I arn't agoin' to stop 'em," growled back Barney. "He's got to be a fighting man, so he'd better larn to fight."

"Can he fight?" whispered the middy.

"Seems like it, sir: that was right in the nose."

An excited murmur ran through the spectators, as after a sharp little episode, during which Syd had been a good deal knocked about, Terry went back against the bulkhead and stood with his hand to his face.

"Ready for the sponge and basin, Mike Terry?" squeaked Jenks; and there was a laugh.

"I'll remember that, Baby," cried Terry, squaring up to his adversary again with the full intention of putting an end to an encounter beneath his dignity; and after a sharp struggle Syd's crown struck the bulkhead loudly, and he went down sitting on a locker.

"That's done him," said Bolton, with a sigh, as if he were disappointed.

"Not it, my lad. Master Syd arn't got warm yet. Your chap's got his work cut out to lick him."

"Then he can fight?" whispered Bolton, eagerly.

"Well, it arn't so much his fighting; it's a way he's got o' not being able to leave off when he's wound up, and that tires 'em. Look at that."

The fight had been renewed by Terry rushing forward to finish off his antagonist, who had seemed to be a little confused by the last round.

But Sydney eluded him, and with a wonderful display of activity avoided several awkward blows, and after wearying his enemy managed to deliver one with all his might in unpleasant proximity to Terry's eyes.

The struggle went on with varying success, Syd on the whole naturally getting far the worst of it; but Barney stood stolidly looking on, and when Roylance felt his heart sink as he saw how badly his brave young defender was being beaten, the boatswain said coolly to Bolton in reply to a--

"Now then, what do you think of that?"

"Lot's o' stuff in him yet, young gen'leman. He's good for another hour."

There was encounter after encounter, and close after close, during which Syd generally went down first; but to Terry's astonishment the more he knocked his young antagonist about the fiercer it made him, and at last after delivering a successful blow full in Syd's chest he cried out--

"Take him away, Roy; I don't want to hurt him any--"

Terry did not finish his remark, for the second half of that last word was knocked back by a bang right in the mouth, followed up by several others so rapidly delivered that the champion of the midshipmen's mess went down this time without a struggle.

"What do you think o' that, young gen'leman?" said Barney.