ey were
glad he had died from his fall, and not from a wound given by an English
blade. And somehow, though it was known to all now, not a voice uttered
a word about his treachery. The terrible fate that had overtaken him
had come as a veil over all that.

For the next few days, as they lay there to leeward of the rock, Syd and
Roylance used to look up at the colours flying from the flagstaff, and
feel something like regret that they were no longer living in the gap;
but there was endless work to do. The captain had transferred his less
fortunate brother officer and crew to the French frigate, and on board
both vessels the knotting, splicing, and repairing that went on was
enormous, while the carpenters and their mates had the busiest of times.

One of the first things done after hospital tents had been rigged up in
the gap, was for all the wounded to be transferred to the shore; the
garrison was strengthened, provisions and stores landed, a surgeon put
in charge, and the _Sirius_ with the prize set sail for the nearest
British possession to land their prisoners.

In a week they were back off the rock, and after communications, sailed
on for Saint Jacques; the French frigate, in spite of being minus one
mast, making fair way under the jury spar set up, and, thanks to the
vigorous efforts made in the way of repairs, in excellent fighting trim,
and with her crew eager to make up in the end for the loss of their own
ship.

Syd had been out of the naval engagement, but he was now to witness a
bold attack made upon a fortified port--a successful attack, the
batteries being pretty well demolished, and the force of sailors and
marines that was landed carrying all before them, so that in one short
day the British flag waved over the town of Saint Jacques, and the
island of La Haute became one of the possessions of the British Crown.

After refitting, the _Sirius_ did good work in the western seas for two
years before she was ordered home, where upon the captain landing at
Shoreport, it was known that he was promoted to the command of a
line-of-battle ship, while sundry honours were ready for his officers,
notably for Mr Dallas, who had long been well and strong.

"Yes, Strake," said Roylance, "promotion for every one but the poor
midshipman."

"Wait a bit, sir, wait a bit," said the bronzed old fellow. "'Tain't
fault o' gover'ment, but fault o' natur'. Soon as you and Mr Belton
here grows big enough you'll be lufft