r consort were cast ashore on one of the coral islands far out of the
regular track of ships.

There they had been ever since, till by clever scheming and
indefatigable work, Captain Belton had got his frigate off, literally
carving a little canal for her from where she lay to the open water.
For his consort was a hopeless wreck, and he had the help of a second
crew.

As soon as they were clear, Captain Belton made sail for the rock again,
to arrive only just in time.

The wreck had given him one advantage, though: he had the crews of both
frigates on board, and several extra guns which he had saved.

It was nearly dark when the boat from the shore arrived with the wounded
and the remnant of the brave defenders of the rock, and a warm welcome
was accorded them; the two little middies, Bolton and Jenkins, who had
nearly gone mad over Syd, seeming to complete the process with Roylance,
who got away from them as soon as possible to draw Sydney aside.

"Seen him?" he said, in a low tone.

"Whom--Mr Dallas? Yes."

"No, no; Terry."

"No; nor do I want to."

"Yes; go and see him, poor wretch."

"If I do he'll accuse me of being the cause of all his trouble."

"No, no; I've shaken hands with him."

"Shaken hands?"

"Why not? My father is a clergyman. I want to recollect something of
what he taught me."

"But with a man like that, even if he is wounded?"

"But, poor fellow! he's dying."

"What!" cried Syd.

"Don't you know?"

Syd shook his head. He felt half suffocated.

"In that last scuffle when we took back the battery, he was one of the
fellows we drove over the side. I didn't know it then. No one did till
he was picked up from where he crouched. The doctor has gone to him
now."

Syd hurried away, and after a time was able to find his old messmate
lying where he had been left by the surgeon, side by side with one of
the many wounded who filled the lower decks.

There was a lanthorn swinging overhead, and Syd started as he saw the
ghastly change in the young man's countenance.

He could not think of enmity or treachery at such a moment as that, but
went close up.

"Terry," he said, "I'm sorry it has come to this."

The midshipman's face lit up, and he feebly raised his hand.

"Better so," he said, in a faint whisper. "Good-bye."

CHAPTER FORTY SIX.

They knew in the midshipman's little company that night how Michael
Terry had died, and the frank-hearted lads joined in saying th