Syd Belton Part 70

"Dunno yet, sir. It was a near toucher. Now you stop with him, and I'll get some more.--No," he added; "I can't go without a light."

"How did you find it? I could not tell you where to look."

"Don't quite know, sir. I was off my head. But I recollect you pynted, and I climbed up and up to where I found you t'other day, and then I tumbled, 'most cut to pieces with they rocks. And when I tried to get up I could hear the water gurgling, and went mad to get to it and drink it. Look here, sir--no: feel, sir; wet through with slipping in. But, oh!"

He drew a long deep breath, and then caught up the bucket.

"Let's go and drink as long as we can, sir; but we shall want the lanthorn now."

It was quite true, for the darkness which falls so rapidly in the tropics was quickly coming in.

"Didn't think I was going to do this no more, sir," said Rogers, as the pair struggled up to the quarters, and with trembling hands managed to strike a light and set the lanthorn candle burning.

"Quick!" whispered Syd, as there came a low moaning from the hospital.

"If I go in they'll be expecting water."

"Which they shall have, sir, before long," replied the sailor, and going back down the gap, they picked up the buckets, Syd stopping to speak to Strake.

"Yes, sir; coming round, sir, I think," he said, hoa.r.s.ely. "Is there a drop more water?"

"There'll be plenty soon. Only wait."

"Now, sir, you take the lanthorn; I'll take the buckets. Lor', how swimmy I do feel. Not from having so much water, is it?"

The man's words jarred on Syd. They sounded so careless from one who but a short time back was dying. But with a sailor, as soon as the danger is past, he is careless again, and the man was all eagerness now to help his messmates.

Syd did not find it easy to descend the rope-ladder, but he got down in safety, and then the difficult ascent of the rocks began.

It was now dark, and he trembled lest they should miss their way and be wandering about for hours, while the poor creatures they had left were still in agony.

But after one or two false slips they hit upon the right gap, as they thought, and were about to descend when Syd stopped short.

"This can't be the place," he said; "I don't hear the water gurgling."

"That's what I've been thinking, sir," said Rogers. "Let's try again."

Weak and weary as he was, Syd's heart sank, but their next attempt was successful, the faint sound of water trickling far below acting as their guide, and they found the place, descended carefully, not seeing their danger, to where the water gurgled musically from the rock into a little pool some five feet long.

Here both drank long and deeply of the delicious draught, after filling their buckets, finding it no easy task to climb back with them to where they stood in the bright, clear star-shine, and begin their journey back down to the bottom of the rope-ladder, where Rogers set down his pail, climbed up, lowered down a rope, and hauled both the buckets up without spilling a drop. Then while he attended to the men with one, Syd hurried up to the little hospital with the other, to find his patients sufficiently recovered to drink with avidity as much water as he would let them have.

There was no sleep that night, but many a prayer of thankfulness was sent up from the darkness of that black gap toward where, in all their tropic splendour, the great stars twinkled brightly.

"And we shall see the light of another day," said Syd, aloud, "and-- Roylance--Roy, are you awake?"

"Yes. I was listening to what you said."

"We've forgotten poor Terry."

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.

It was a false alarm, for Terry had been tended by Rogers, and seemed one of the strongest of the party that sat eating their morning meal a few hours later.

But an enemy would have found an easy capture of the place that day had he come; though, as there really was no illness, the recuperation was rapid enough, and all congratulated themselves on the find.

"It warn't nice while it lasted, but you see it was an eggsperens like, sir," said Strake; "only what puzzles me is, why you and Pan-y-mar didn't think of the water afore."

"I was thinking about it all night, Strake," said Syd, "and it was as great a puzzle to me. I heard the gurgling of water that day when Mr Dallas was hurt, and thought it must be the sea coming in through some crack, and I never thought of it again till I felt that I was dying.

Then it came like a flash."

"Dying! Lor' now, we warn't dying," said the boatswain cheerily. "But thirsty I will say though, as I never was so thirsty afore. I've been hungry, and had to live for a week on one biscuit and the wriggling things as was at the bottom of a cask, but that's heavenly to going without your 'lowance o' water."

"Don't talk about it," said Syd; "it was a horrible experience."

"Well, come, sir, I like that," growled Strake, who soon seemed quite himself again; "it was you begun it, not me."

"I?" cried Syd, angrily; "why, didn't you come to me, sir, and say that you always thought as long as a man had a biscuit and plenty of rum he could do without water?"

"Why, so I did, Master Syd, sir. Of course I'd forgotten it. Got so wishy-washy with so much water, that I can't think quite clear again yet."

"Never mind; you know better about the rum now."

"Yes, sir; and if I gets back home again well and hearty, you know, there's a good cellar under the cottage at home."

"Yes, of course, I know. What of that?"

"Well, sir, I'm going to set Pan-y-mar to work--his fin 'll be strong long afore then--to wash all the empty wine-bottles I can find up at the house, and I'm goin' to fill 'em at the pump, cork 'em up, and lay 'em down in the cellar same as the captain does his port wine."

"And give up rum altogether?"

"Give? Up? Well, no, sir; I dunno as I could quite do that."

"Never mind talking about it, then," said Syd; "but as soon as the men are well enough, let's have all the water-casks well-filled."

"Beg pardon, sir."

"Well, what?"

"Water's lovely and sweet and cool where it is; wouldn't it be better to have it fetched twice a day as we want it?"

"Yes, Strake," said Syd, "if you are quite sure that no enemy will come and try to oust us. Suppose they land, and we are shut up here; are we to go on suffering for want of water again?"

The boatswain hit himself a tremendous blow on his chest with his doubled fist.

"Think o' that now, sir. Must be the water. Head's as wishy-washy as can be. Sort o' water on the brain kind o' feeling, sir."

"We'll have the casks all filled and stored in that cave near the powder, and be secure from it, but have the water for use fetched twice a day from the spring."