Syd Belton Part 67

"It cannot be long before the _Sirius_ returns. Of course Captain Belton put out to sea. It would have been madness to have stopped in these reef-bound channels. Had you not better call the men together, and thoroughly search all the crannies among the rocks for a spring, Mr Belton?"

"Already done, sir, twice."

"Yes, of course; you would be sure to do that. Then there is only one thing to do; we must wait patiently for help. Had we been provided with a boat, of course we could have searched for water on the nearest island. But keep a good heart; the _Sirius_ cannot be long."

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

But the time seemed terribly tedious upon that parched rock, where not a single green thing grew. The heat was terrific, and the men sat and lay about panting, and glad of the relief afforded by the tobacco they chewed. It was impossible to hide the fact from them that they were using the last drops of the water; but there were no murmurs, not a mutinous voice was heard against the tiny portion that was served out so as to make what was left last for another forty-eight hours. After that?

Yes; no one dared try to answer that question. A man was always on the watch by the flagstaff. But he swept the offing with the gla.s.s in vain.

There was no ship in sight that could be signalled for help, and no sign of movement in the direction of the town.

"It's seems horribly lowering to one's dignity," said Roylance, "coming here to occupy a rock and set the enemy at defiance, and then be regularly obliged to give up and say, 'Take us prisoners, please,' all for want of a drop of water."

"If it would only rain!" cried Syd, as he thought of how bitter all this would be to his father.

"Never will when you want it."

"It is degrading," said Syd. "But we must wait. What does Terry say?"

"Nothing. He has taken to chewing tobacco like the men, and I don't want to be hard upon him, but he seems on the whole to be pleased that we are in such a sc.r.a.pe."

"But you are too hard on him," said Syd. "There, let's go and sit with poor Mr Dallas. We must keep him in good spirits."

"I haven't the heart to go," said Roylance, sadly. "He is suffering horribly from the want of a drop of cold water, and we have none to give him."

The long day dragged by, and was succeeded by a hot and pulseless night.

The last drop of water had been voted by common consent to the sick man, and the sailors were face to face with the difficulty of pa.s.sing the next day. It would be maddening, they knew, without water on that heated rock. They had tried to quench their thirst by drawing buckets of water down on the natural pier and drenching each other, for they dare not bathe on account of the sharks; but that was a poor solace, and the poor fellows gazed at each other with parched lips and wild eyes, asking help and advice in vain, and without orders climbed up high and perched themselves on points of vantage to watch for a sail, the only hope of salvation from a maddening death that they could see.

The look-out man by the flagstaff was ready with the bunting for signals; and when he hauled it, all knew now that it would be no flaunting forth of defiance, but an appeal for aid. But no ship came in sight all that next long day.

"It's all over, Belt," said Roylance, as the sun rose high once more, and his voice sounded harsh and strange. "I shall die to-day raving mad. We must go, but let's write something to your father to find when he does come."

"I have done it," said Sydney. "I wrote it last night before I turned so queer and half mad-like with this horrible thirst."

"Did you turn half mad?"

"Yes, when I was alone after I had done it.--I told my father that we had all tried to do our duty, and had fought to the last; and said good-bye."

"Where did you put it?" said Roylance, as they walked slowly to the upper gun, while Terry lay beneath a rock seeming to watch them.

"Put what?" said Sydney, vacantly.

"The letter to your father."

"What letter to my father? Has Uncle Tom written to him?"

"Belt, old fellow, hold up," cried Roylance, half frantically. "Don't you give way."

"Oh, I did feel so stupid," said Syd, with a loud harsh laugh. "Said I wouldn't go to sea, and ran away, and then came sneaking back with my tail between my legs. Oh, there's Barney."

"No, no, my dear fellow; there's no one here."

"Yes, there is," cried Syd, angrily, as he stared with bloodshot eyes straight before him. "Barney, what does the dad say? Is he very cross?"

"Oh, Belt; don't, don't," groaned Roylance.--"I must get him under shelter."

He took his friend's arm.

"No, no, you shan't," cried Sydney. "I won't be dragged in before them.

I'll go in straight when I do go, and say I was wrong. Touch me again, Barney, and I'll hit you."

"It is I, Belt. Don't you know me?"

"Know you?--of course. What made you say that?"

"I--I don't know."

"Roy, poor fellow, you are suffering from the heat. There's no ship in sight, but you and I mustn't give up; we must set an example to the men.--No, no, Barney, I tell you I will not go."

"Terry, Mike Terry, come and help me," cried Roylance; but the midshipman did not stir from where he lay under a shadowing rock.

"Not for a hundred of you I would not go. Eh! Water--where? Ah, beautiful water! Can't you hear it splashing? Plenty to-night. Rain."

"Come into the shade, Belt," said Roylance, who felt now that their last day had come, and that there was nothing to be done now but lie down and die.

"No," said Syd, sharply, "I want to see the men. How are the poor fellows?"

He staggered down to where the men not on duty were lying in the shade cast by the rocks, and the boatswain, who seemed to have been talking to them, rose.

"Sad work, sir," he said, touching his hat; and several of the men rose and saluted, others lying staring and helpless, their lips black, and a horrible delirious look in their eyes.

"No ship, Barney," whispered Syd, huskily.

"No, sir. We must give it up, sir, like men; but it do seem hard work.

Seen my boy Pan-y-mar?"

"On board, on board," said Syd quickly.

"What, sir?"

"I did not speak," cried the boy, shaking his head, and Roylance and the boatswain exchanged glances.

"Yes, yes, I spoke--you spoke," said Syd, strangely. "I know now, but my brain feels hot and dry, and I can't breathe. Yes. Pan. He's with Mr Dallas in the hut."

The boy sank down on a stone, and placed his elbows upon his knees to make a resting-place for his head.