"Here you, Syd, pass the port."
Sydney Belton took hold of the silver decanter-stand and slid it
carefully along the polished mahogany table towards where Admiral Belton
sat back in his chair.
"Avast!"
The ruddy-faced old gentleman roared out that adjuration in so
thunderous a way that the good-looking boy who was passing the decanter
started and nearly turned it over.
"What's the matter, Tom?" came from the other end of the table, where
Captain Belton, a sturdy-looking, grey-haired gentleman nearly as ruddy
as his brother, was the admiral's _vis-a-vis_.
"He's passing the decanter without filling his own glass!" cried the
admiral. "Fill up, you young dog, and drink the King's health."
"No, thank you, uncle," said the boy, quietly, "I've had one glass."
"Well, sir, so have I. Don't I tell you I'm going to propose the King's
health?"
"I'll drink it in water, uncle."
"What, sir? Drink the health of his most gracious Majesty in raw water!
Not if I know it."
"But port wine makes my face burn, uncle, and Doctor Liss says--"
"Confound Doctor Liss, sir! Hang Doctor Liss, sir! By George, sir, if
I were in active service again, and your Doctor Liss were in my
squadron, I'd have him triced up and give him twelve dozen, sir."
"No, you wouldn't, uncle," said the boy, cracking a walnut, and glancing
at his father, who was watching him furtively.
"What, sir? I wouldn't? Look here, brother Harry, Liss is corrupting
this boy's mind."
"I don't know about corrupting, Tom," said the captain, smiling, "but he
certainly does seem to be putting some queer things into his head."
"So it seems. Teaches him to drink the King's health in water."
"No, he didn't, uncle," said the boy, cracking another walnut.
"Yes, he did, sir. How dare you contradict me! Confound you, sir, if I
had you aboard ship I'd mast-head you."
"No, you wouldn't, uncle," said the boy, dipping a piece of
freshly-peeled walnut in the salt and crunching it between his teeth.
"What, sir?"
"I say you would not," replied the boy.
"And pray why, you young dog?"
"Because you'd know father wouldn't like it."
Captain Belton laughed and sipped his port, and the admiral blew out his
cheeks.
"Look here, brother Harry," he cried; "is this my nephew Sydney, or some
confounded young son of a sea-lawyer?"
"Oh, it's Syd, sure enough," said the captain.
"Then he's grown into an insolent, pragmatical young cock-a-hoop
upstart; and hang it, I should like to spread-eagle him till he came to
his senses."
The boy, who was peeling a scrap of walnut, gave his uncle a sidelong
look and laughed.
"Ah, I would, sir, and no mistake," cried the admiral, fiercely.
"Harry, you don't half preserve discipline in the ship. Here, Syd, it's
time you were off to sea."
The boy took another walnut and crushed it, conscious of the fact that
his father was watching him intently.
"I don't want to go to sea, uncle," said the boy at last, as he picked
off the scraps of broken shell from his walnut.
"What?" roared the admiral. "Here you, sir, say that again."
"I don't want to go to sea, uncle."
"You--don't--want--to go--to sea, sir?"
"No, uncle."
"Well, I am stunned," said the old gentleman, rapidly pouring out and
tossing off a glass of port. "Brother Harry, what have you to say to
this?"
"That it is all nonsense. The boy does not know his own mind."
"Of course not," cried the admiral, turning sharply upon Sydney, who
went on picking the skin from his walnut. "Do you know, sir, that your
family have been sailors as far back as the days of Elizabeth."
"Yes, uncle," said the boy, coolly. "I've often heard you say so."
"And that it is your duty, as the last representative of the family, to
maintain its honour, sir?"
"No, uncle."
"What, sir?" cried the old man, fiercely.
"I'm not fit to be a sailor," continued the boy, quietly enough.
"And pray, why not, Sydney?" said Captain Belton, frowning.
"Because I'm such a coward, father."
"A Belton!" groaned the admiral, "and says he is a coward."
"A boy to be a sailor ought to be fond of the sea."
"Of course, sir," said the captain.
"And I hate it."
"And pray why?" said the admiral, fiercely.
"Because it's so salt," said Syd, busy helping himself to some more of
the condiment he had named.
"Salt?" cried the admiral. "Of course it is, and so it ought to be.
Nonsense! He's laughing at us, Harry--a dog."
"No, I'm not, uncle; I'm not fit to be a sailor."
"Then, pray, what are you fit for, sir?" cried Captain Belton, angrily.
"I mean to be a doctor!"
"What!" roared the two officers together.
_Crack! crack_!
"Put that walnut and those crackers down, sir!" said the captain,
sternly. "I am glad your uncle started this subject, for it was time we
had an explanation. Do you know that with his interest at the Admiralty
and mine you could be entered on board a first-rate man-of-war?"
"Yes, and well looked after, sir," cried the admiral; "so that when you
had properly gone through your term, and been master's mate long enough,
your promotion would have been certain."
"Yes, uncle, father has often said so," replied Sydney, reaching for
another walnut, and taking up the crackers.
"Put that walnut down, sir," cried his father.
Sydney obeyed, and to keep his hands under control thrust them in his
pockets and leaned back in his chair.
"Well, sir," said his uncle, "does not that make you feel proud?"
"No, uncle."
"What! Don't you know that you would have a uniform and wear a sword--I
mean a dirk?"
"Yes, uncle."
"Well, sir? Why, at your time of life I was mad to have my uniform."
"What for?" said the boy.
"What for, sir? What for? Why, to wear, of course."
"I don't want to wear a uniform. You couldn't climb trees, nor go
fishing, nor shrimping, nor riding in a uniform."
"No, sir," continued the admiral, after winking and frowning at his
brother to leave the boy to him, "of course not. You would be an
officer and a gentleman then, and wear a cocked hat."
"Ha! ha! ha!"
The boy burst into a hearty fit of laughter, and his father frowned.
"Sydney--" he began.
"No, no, Harry, leave him to me," said the admiral; "I'll talk to him.
Now, sir," he continued, turning to the boy sternly, "pray what did I
say to make you start grinning like a confounded young monkey? I--I--I
am not accustomed to be laughed at by impertinent boys."
"I was not laughing at you, uncle," said the boy, dragging one hand from
his pocket and making a lunge at an apple.
"Leave that fruit alone, sir," said the admiral, "and don't tell me a
confounded lie, sir. You did laugh at me."
"I did not," said the boy; "and that's not a lie."
"What!" roared the admiral, turning purple. "How dare you, sir! To the
mast-head at once, and stop there till--"
A hearty burst of laughter from his brother and nephew quelled the old
man's anger.
"Ah, you may laugh at that," he said. "Force of habit. But you've got
to apologise, you young monkey, for what you said."
"I can't apologise for what I did not do," said the boy, stubbornly.
"What, sir?"
"Steady, steady, sir," said the captain. "He's a confoundedly impudent
young scamp, but he could not tell a lie."
"But he laughed in my face, Harry?"
"I was laughing at myself, uncle."
"At yourself, sir?"
"Yes, I was thinking what a popinjay I should look in a cocked hat."
"Well, really," said the admiral, "I am beginning to be glad, Harry,
that I never married and had a son. I used to be envious about this
boy, and wanted a share in him. But a boy who can laugh at a part of
his Majesty's uniform--well! Why, you young whipper-snapper, did I ever
look a--a--a popinjay in my cocked hat?"
"Well, you used to look very rum, uncle."
"Harry, my dear boy," said the admiral, fiercely; "we are old men, and
this young dog represents us. May I take him into the library, and give
him a good caning?"
"No, Tom, certainly not."
"No, of course not, Harry; I beg your pardon. Now, sir--pass that
port--and--a--don't fill your own glass. Port like that, sir, is only
fit for gentlemen. And you--you want to be a doctor, eh?"
"Yes, uncle," said the boy, pushing the decanter along the table.
"And pray what for, sir?"
"To do good to people."
"What? A doctor do good! Rubbish! Never did me a bit of good."
"Oh, but they do, uncle."
"Never, sir. That Liss has pretty well poisoned me over and over
again."
"Oh, uncle, what a--"
"You say that if you dare, sir," cried the old admiral, bringing his
hand down bang upon the table, and making the glasses dance. "It's the
truth. Always made my gout worse. Colchicum--colchicum--colchicum--and
the pain awful. Doctors are an absurd new invention, and of no use
whatever."
"Why, you always have a doctor on board ship."
"Surgeon, you young dog, surgeon. Doctor! Bah! Hang all doctors! A
surgeon is of some use in action, cutting, and splicing, and fishing a
poor fellow's limbs; but a doctor--"
At that moment a rubicund butler opened the dining-room door, and stood
back for some one to enter.
"Doctor Liss, sir," he said quietly; and a quick, eager-looking little
man in snuff-coloured coat and long, salt-box-pocketed waistcoat entered
the room, handing his cocked hat and stick to the butler, and nodding
pleasantly from one to the other.
"Who was that shouting for the doctor?" he said cheerily, as he rubbed
his hands; then took out a gold snuff-box, tapped it, opened it, and
handed it to the captain.
"You, wasn't it, Sir Thomas? Touch of your old enemy?"
"No," grunted the admiral, "I'm sound as a roach. Bah!"
"Thankye, Liss," said the captain, taking his pinch, and handing back
the box; "sit down. Syd, pass those clean glasses."
The admiral took a pinch, and then the new-comer took his, loudly
snapped-to the box, and drew out a delicate cambric handkerchief to flap
off some snuff from his shirt-frill.
As soon as the doctor was comfortably seated the port was passed, and
then there was silence, Sydney looking from one to the other, and
wondering what was coming next.
The doctor, too, looked from one to the other and formed his own
opinion.
"Hullo!" he said. "In disgrace, Sydney? What have you been doing,
sir?"
"Eating walnuts," said the boy, mischievously.
"And defying his father and uncle--a dog!" cried the admiral. "Here,
Liss; what do you think he says?"
"Bless me! I don't know."
"Why, confound him! says he wants to be a doctor."
"Does he?" cried the new-comer, turning to look at Sydney. "Well, I'm
not surprised."
"But I am," cried Captain Belton, angrily.
"And I'm astounded," said the admiral. "A Belton descend to being an
apothecary."
"Ah!" said the doctor, dryly, as he held his glass up to the light,
"terrible descent, certainly. Wants to save life instead of destroying
it."
"Now, look here, Liss," began the admiral, fiercely.
"No, no, Tom, let me speak," said Captain Belton. "No quarrelling."
"No, you had better not quarrel," said the doctor, good-humouredly.
"Make you both ill, and then I shall have you at my mercy."
"Indeed you will not," said the admiral, "for I'll call in old Marchant
from Lowerport."
"Not you," cried the doctor, laughing; "you dare not. I'm the only man
who understands your constitution."
"There, there, there!" cried the captain, "that's enough. But really,
sir, it's too bad. As an old friend I did not think you would lead my
boy astray."
"I? Astray? Nonsense!"
"But you have, sir. You've taken him out with you on your rounds, and
the young dog thinks of nothing else but doctoring."
"And pill-boxes and gallipots," said the admiral, fiercely.
"Now, my dear old friends, you are not talking sense," said the doctor,
quietly. "Sydney has been my rounds with me a good deal, and he has
certainly displayed so much interest in all my surgical cases, that if
he were my boy I should certainly make him a doctor."
"Impossible!" cried the captain.
"Not to be heard of," said Sir Thomas. "He's going to sea."
Sydney, who had been fidgeting about in his chair, gave a sudden kick
out with his right leg, and felt something soft as his uncle uttered a
savage yell, and thrust his chair back from the table.
"I--I beg your pardon, uncle, I did not know that--"
"You did, sir," cried the old man furiously, as he shook his fist at the
boy. "You did it maliciously; out of spite, because I want to make a
man of you. Bless me, Harry," he continued, "if you don't take that
young scoundrel out into the hall and thrash him, I'll never darken your
doors again. Dear--dear--dear--dear! Bless my soul! Ah!"
The poor old admiral had risen, and was limping about when Sydney went
after him.
"Uncle," he began.
"Bah!" ejaculated the old man, grasping him by the collar. "Here he is,
brother Harry; I've got him. Now then, take him out."
"I'm very sorry, uncle," said Sydney. "I didn't know it was your gouty
leg there."
"Then, you did do it on purpose, sir?"
"No, I didn't, uncle. I wouldn't have been such a coward."
"Of course he wouldn't," said the doctor. "But there, sir, sit down;
the pain is gone off now."
"How do you know?" cried the admiral. "It's as if ten thousand red-hot
irons were searing it. Harry, you've spoiled that boy."
"No, I join issue there," said Captain Belton. "You've indulged him ten
times more than ever I have, Tom."
"It is not true, brother Harry," said the admiral, limping to his chair.
"Oh yes, it is. Hasn't your uncle spoiled you, Sydney, far more than I
have?"
"No, father," replied the boy, quietly, as he helped the old admiral to
sit down, and placed an ottoman under his injured leg.
"Thankye, boy, thankye. And you're not so bad as I said; 'tis quite
true, it's your father's doing."
"I think you've both spoiled me," said Sydney, quietly; and the doctor
helped himself to another glass of port to hide his mirth.
"Won't do, Liss, you're laughing. I can see you," said the admiral.
"That's just what you doctors enjoy, seeing other people suffer, so that
you may laugh and grow fat."
"Oh, I was not laughing at your pain," said the doctor, quietly, "but at
Sydney's judgment. He is quite right, you do both spoil him."
"What?"
"He has three times as much money to spend as is right, and I wonder he
does not waste it more. Well, Syd, my boy, so they will not let you be
a doctor?"
Sydney frowned, and cracked a walnut till the shell and nut were all
crushed together.
"And so you are to make up your mind to go to sea?"
"Yes," said the admiral, emphatically.
"Certainly," said Captain Belton; and, as soon after the conversation
turned into political matters, Sydney quietly left his chair, strolled
to the window, and stood gazing out at the estuary upon which the
captain's house looked down.
It was a glorious view. The long stretch of water was dappled with
orange and gold; and here and there the great men-of-war were lying at
anchor, some waiting their commanders; others, whose sea days were past,
waiting patiently for their end, sent along dark shadows behind them.
Here and there fishing-boats with tawny sails were putting out to sea
for the night's fishing; and as Sydney's eyes wandered, a frown settled
upon his forehead, and he stepped out through the open window into the
garden.
"Bother the old sea!" he said, petulantly. "It's always sea, sea, sea,
from morning till night. I don't want to go, and I won't."
As he spoke he passed under an apple tree, one of whose fruit, missed in
the gathering a month before, had dropped, and picking it up, the boy
relieved his feelings by throwing it with all his might across the
garden.
The effect was as sudden as that produced by his kick; for there was a
shout and sound of feet rapidly approaching, and a red-faced boy of
about his own age came into sight, hatless and breathless, panting,
wild-eyed, and with fists clenched ready for assault.
"Who threw--Oh, it was you, was it, Master Sydney? You coward!"
"Who's a coward?" cried Sydney, hotly.
"You are. You throwed that apple and hit me, 'cause you knowed I
dursen't hit you again."
"No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did, and you are a coward."
"No, I'm not a coward."
"Yes, you are. If I hit you, I know what you'd do--go and tell your
father, and get me sent away."
"There, then! Does that feel like a coward's blow?--or that?--or that?"
Three sharp cuffs in the chest illustrated Sydney's words, two of which
the boy bore, flinching at each; but rising beyond endurance by the
third, he retaliated with one so well planted that Sydney went down in a
sitting position, but in so elastic a fashion that he was up again on
the instant, and flew at the giver of the blow.
Then for five minutes there was a sharp encounter, with its
accompaniments of hard breathing, muttering, dull sounds of blows and
scuffling feet, till a broad-shouldered, red-faced man in a serge apron
came down upon them at a trot, and securing each by the shoulder held
them apart.
"Now then," he growled, "what's this here?"
"Pan hit me, and I'm dressing him down," panted Sydney. "Here, let go,
Barney."
"Master Syd hit me first, father," panted the red-faced boy.
"Howld your tongue, warmint, will you," said the man in a deep growl.
"Want to have me chucked overboard, and lose my bit o' pension. You're
allus a-going at your pastors and masters."
"Hit me first," remonstrated the boy, as the new-comer gave him a shake.
"Well, what o' that, you ungrateful young porpuss! Hasn't the cap'n hit
me lots o' times and chucked things at me? You never see me flyin' in
his face."
"Chucked a big apple at me first," cried the boy in an ill-used tone.
"Sarve you right too. Has he hurt you much, Master Sydney?"
"No, Barney; not a bit. There, I was wrong. I didn't know he was there
when I threw the apple. I only did it because I felt vicious."
"Hear that, you young sarpint?" cried the square-shouldered man.
"Yes, father."
"Then just you recollect. If the young skipper feels wicious, he's a
right to chuck apples. Why, it's rank mutiny hitting him again."
"Hit me first," grumbled the boy.
"Ay, and I'll hit you first. Why, if I'd been board ship again, instead
of being a pensioner and keeping this here garden in order for the
skipper, I should have put my pipe to my mouth, and--What say, Master
Syd?"
"Don't say any more about it. I'd no business to hit Pan, and I'm sorry
I did now."
"Well, sir, I don't know 'bout not having no business, 'cause you see
you're the skipper's son, and nothing does a boy so much good as a
leathering; but if you're sorry for it, there's an end on it.
Pan-a-mar, my lad, beg Master Sydney's pardon."
"He hit me first," grumbled the boy.
"Do you want me to give you a good rope's-ending, my sonny?" growled the
man; "'cause if you do, just you say that 'ere agen."
The red-faced boy uttered a smothered growl, and was silent.
"Too young to understand discipline yet, Master Sydney," said the man.
"And so you felt wicious, did you? What about?"
"They've been at me again about going to sea, Barney."
"And you don't want to go, my lad?"
"No; and I won't go."
"Hear that, Pan, my lad?"
The boy nodded and drew down the corner of his lips, with the effect
that Sydney made a threatening gesture.
"No, I'm not afraid, Pan," he cried fiercely; "but I don't want to go,
and I won't."
The broad-shouldered man shook his head mournfully, and taking out a
steel tobacco-box he opened it and cut off a piece of black, pressed
weed, to transfer to his cheek, as he again shook his head sadly.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Master Sydney," he said.
"Why?"
"'Cause it's agen nature. I'm sixty-two now, and from the time I was a
little shaver right up to now I never heerd a well-grown, strong,
good-looking young chap say he didn't want to go to sea."
"Ah, well, Barney, you've heard one now."
"Ay, ay! and mighty sorry too, sir. Why, there have been times when
I've said to myself, `Maybe when the young master gets his promotion and
a ship of his own, he'll come and say to me, Now then, Barney, now's
your time to get rid o' the rust; I'll get you painted and scraped, and
you shall come to sea with me.'"
"You, Barney? You are too old now. What would you be then?"
"Old! Old! Get out! I don't call myself old by a long way, Master
Syd; and if it hadn't been for the captain laying up I should ha' been
at sea now. But you'll think better on it, sir; you'll go."
"What, to sea, Barney?"
"Ay, sir."
"No; I mean to be a doctor."
"Then I says it again as I said it afore, Master Syd, there's something
the matter with you."
"Matter? Nonsense! What do you mean?"
"Why, what you say sounds so gal-ish and soft, it makes me think as you
must have ketched something going out with the doctor."
"What rubbish, Barney!"
"But you going to be a doctor!" cried the old sailor, rubbing his nose
with a great gnarled finger. "You, who might be an admiral and command
a squadron: no, sir, it won't do."
"It will have to do, Barney."
"Well, sir, it mought and it moughtn't; but it strikes me as you've got
something coming on, sir, as is a weakening your head--measles, or
fever, or such-like--or you wouldn't talk as you do about the Ryle
Navee."
"I talk about it as I do because I don't want to go to sea."
"But it's a flying in the face of the skipper and the admiral. Bobstays
and chocks! I wish I was your age and got the chance o' going instead
o' being always ashore here plarntin' the cabbages and pulling up the
weeds."
"Then you don't like being a gardener, Barney?"
"I 'ates it, sir."
"And so do I hate being a sailor. There!"
"But it's so onnat'ral, sir. Here's your father been a sailor, same as
I've been a sailor, and I've drilled up Pan-a-mar o' purpose to be
useful to you in the same ship. Why, it's like wasting a season in the
garden. I meant him to be your Jack factotum, as the skipper used to
call it, and you never heard him say he didn't want to go to sea."
"You said you'd rope's-end me if I did," grumbled the red-faced boy.
"And so I will, you young swab," roared the gardener. "Why, you
onnat'ral young galley-dabber, are you going to turn up your ugly pig's
nose at your father's purfession?"
"Pan doesn't like the sea any more than I do," cried Sydney; "and I say
it's a shame to force boys to be what they don't like."
"Well, this beats all," cried the gardener, helping himself to a fresh
piece of tobacco. "What the world's coming to next, I dunnow. Why, if
the King, bless him! know'd o' this, it would break his heart."
"Syd! Ahoy there!" came from the dining-room window.
"Aho--"
Sydney was about to reply with a hearty sea-going _Ahoy_! but he altered
his mind and cried--
"Yes, father; I'm coming."
This was followed by a savage slap on the leg given by the ex-boatswain,
who had settled down with his master the captain at The Heronry,
Southbayton.
"Just like a loblolly boy," he growled. "You, Pan, if you was to answer
a hail like that I'd--Stop; come here."
"Yes, father, I'm coming," said the red-faced boy, with a grin; and then
he dodged while the old boatswain made a blow at his head with open
hand.
"Here, I'll speak to the skipper at once about you, youngster. Doing
the knives and boots and helping over the weeds is spyling your morals."
"Speak--what about, father?"
"Speak? What about? Why, you swab, do you think I had you chrissen
Pan-a-mar, arter a glorious naval victory, o' purpose to have you grow
up into a 'long-shore lubber? There, get indoors. 'Fore you're many
hours older I'll have you afloat."
Pan went slowly up to the house, followed by his father, who walked
along the gravel path with his legs wide apart, as if he expected the
ground to heave up; while Sydney went round to the front of the house,
and entered by the dining-room window, where his father, uncle, and the
doctor were still seated at the table.
"Why, Syd, lad, we did not see you go," said his father; "come and sit
down."
The boy obeyed, looking furtively from one to the other, as if he knew
instinctively that something particular was coming.
"Ahem!" The admiral gave vent to a tremendous forced cough.
"No, Tom, I'll tell him," said Captain Belton. "Look here, Syd, my boy,
at your time of life lads do not know what is best for them, so it is
the duty of their fathers to decide."
"Is it, father?"
"Of course it is, sir," growled the admiral, and Doctor Liss wrinkled up
his forehead and looked attentively on.
"Now look here, sir. Your uncle has just heard an old friend of his,
Captain Dashleigh--"
"Known him from a boy," said the admiral.
"Has been appointed to the _Juno_, one of our finest three-deckers, and
he is going to ask him to take you as one of his midshipmen."
"Uncle Tom always said that a boy should commence life either in a sloop
of war or a smart frigate," said Syd, sharply.
"If there's one handy," growled the admiral. "_Juno's_ a ship to be
proud of."
"So, thank your uncle for his promise to exert his interest, and let's
have no more nonsense."
"But I want to be a doctor, father," said Syd, looking hard at the
visitor.
_Crash_!
The glasses danced as the admiral brought his hand down heavily.
"No, no, Tom," cried the captain, testily; "I can manage the helm."
"But, Doctor Liss!" said the boy, appealingly.
"Don't appeal to me, my boy," said the doctor, gravely. "You know your
father's and your uncle's wish. It is your duty to obey."
"Oh!" ejaculated Sydney, in a tone of voice which seemed to say, "I did
think you would side with me."
The doctor took a pinch of snuff.
"You see, Syd," continued the captain, "your uncle has no son, and I
have only one to keep up the honour of our family. You will join your
ship with the best of prospects, and I hope you will be a credit to us
both."
Sydney said nothing, but took another walnut, and cracked it viciously,
as if it was the head of a savage enemy.
That night he lay tumbling and unable to sleep, his brow knit and his
teeth set, feeling as obstinate as a boy can feel who has not been
allowed to have his own way.