"Who is that boy in your company?" he enquired of the sergeant.

"Name Fairburn, sir," was the reply; "all along he's been a hot
member," to which the captain said with a smile, as he turned away,
"He most certainly is."

The next day was a saints' day, and it was strongly suspected, and at
length clearly perceived, that the Spanish sentinels had left their
posts and gone off to mass. It would have been easy to carry the place
at once, but the necessary storming had been done, and the allied
commanders were only waiting for the besieged to give the signal of
capitulation. The besiegers, soldiers and sailors, had nothing to do
but chat.

Presently some of the sailors declared that it would be a prime joke
to climb the heights and plant their flag there. The notion was taken
up, and presently the temptation grew irresistible to certain of them,
and with merry chuckles the fellows prepared for the task, an
enterprise that was risky in the extreme.

"I'm one of you!" cried George Fairburn, as he followed the handful of
sailors to the foot of the steep rock.

"And I!" chimed in yet another voice, and, to George's astonishment,
Lieutenant Fieldsend ran up, his arm in a sling.

"Better go back, sir," exclaimed the lad, gazing up at the towering
cliff in front of them.

"Better both on ye go back, I reckon," growled one of the sailors;