"What!" cried Sir Thomas, when he heard the adventures in town, "you
mean to tell me that Dashleigh treated you as you say?"
"Exactly," replied his brother.
"My face show the marks much now?"
"No; hardly at all."
"Then we'll go up to town to-morrow."
"What for, Tom?" said the captain. "You'll do no better than I did."
"I'm not going to try, Harry," said the old gentleman, fiercely.
"Then why go? You are comfortable here."
"I'm going up to horsewhip that contemptible little scoundrel Dashleigh,
and fight him afterwards, though he's hardly gentleman enough."
"Nonsense, Tom!"
"Nonsense? Why I made that fellow--and pretty waste of time too! And
now he's in command of a seventy-four, and you may go begging for a word
to get your boy into the midshipmen's berth."
Uncle Tom did not go up to town to horsewhip or fight.
"Never mind," he said, "he's sure to run his ship on the rocks, or get
thrashed--a scoundrel! Here, Syd, take my advice."
"What is it, uncle?"
"Never do any one a kind action as long as you live."
"You don't mean it, uncle."
"What, sir? No, I don't: you're right."
A week passed, during which Barney suggested that the proper thing for
Captain Belton to do was to purchase some well-built merchant schooner,
and fit her out as a privateer.
"I could soon get together as smart a crew as you'd care to have, and
then there'd be a chance for your son to get to be a leefftenant 'fore
you knew where you were."
But Captain Belton only laughed, and matters at the Heronry remained as
they were, till one day with the other letters there came one that was
big and official, and its effect upon the two old officers was striking.
"From the Admiralty, Tom," said the captain, as he glanced at the great
seal, and then began to take out his knife to slit open the fold.
"I can see that," said the admiral. "It's from Claudene. Syd, lad,
you're in luck. He has got you appointed to a ship, after all."
"Bless my soul!" cried the captain, dropping the great missive on the
table.
"What is it, my lad?--what is it?" cried Sir Thomas.
"Read--read," cried Captain Belton, huskily--"it's too good to believe."
Sir Thomas snatched up the official letter, cast his eyes over it, and
then, forgetting his gout, caught hold of Syd's hands and began to caper
about the room like a maniac.
"Hurrah! Bravo, Harry, my lad. I've often grumbled; but I avow it--I
am past service, gouty as I am; but you were never more seaworthy."
"Uncle, why don't you speak?" cried Sydney, excitedly. "Has father got
a ship?"
"Got a ship, my lad? He's appointed to one of the smartest in the
navy--the _Sirius_ frigate, and she's ordered abroad."
Captain Belton drew himself up, and his eyes flashed as in imagination
he saw himself treading once more the quarter-deck of a smart ship.
"It's too good to believe," he muttered--"too good to believe."
"You haven't read the letter," said his brother, looking wistfully
across to the tall, eager-looking man before him.
"No," said Captain Belton. "Hah! from Claudene,"--and he read aloud:--
"My dear Belton, I have managed this for you, and I'm very glad, for you
will do us credit. The appointment will clear away the difficulty about
your boy, for you can have him in your own ship, and keep the young dog
under your eye. My good wishes to you, and kind regards to your
brother. Tell him I wish I could serve him as well, but I can't see my
way."
"Of course he can't," said the old admiral, quickly. "No; I'm too old
and gouty now. But as for you, you dog, why don't you stand on your
head, or shout, or something? Here, I am well enough to go up to town
after all. Syd and I are going to see about his uniform. The
_Sirius_--well, you two have luck at last. Here, hi! you, sir! Put
down that confounded birch-broom, and come here."
Uncle Tom had caught sight of Barney at the bottom of the lawn sweeping
leaves into a heap for his son to lift them between two boards into the
waiting barrow.
As Barney looked up and saw the admiral signalling from the window, he
came across the lawn at a trot, dragging the broom after him.
"Drop that broom and salute your officer, you confounded old barnacle!"
roared the old gentleman. "Salute, sir, salute: your master's appointed
to the smartest frigate in the service."
Barney struck an attitude, sent his old cocked hat spinning into the
air, and then catching it, tucked it under his arm, and pulled his
imaginary forelock over and over again.
"Good luck to your honour! I am glad. When would you like me to be
ready, sir? Shall I go on first and begin overhauling?"
"You, Strake?" said the captain, thoughtfully.
"You're not going to leave me behind, sir? No, no, sir; don't say that,
sir--don't think it, sir. I'm as strong and active as ever I was, and a
deal more tough. Ask him to take me, Master Syd."
"Take you, Strake?" said the captain again. "Why, what is to become of
my garden?"
"Your garden, captain! What do you want with a garden when you're at
sea? Salt tack and biscuit, and a few bags o' 'tatoes about all you
want aboard ship."
The captain shook his head.
"It's a long time since you were on active service, Strake."
"Active sarvice, captain! Why, I was on active sarvice when the admiral
hailed me; and, I tell you, I never felt more fit for work in my life.
Course I'd like to be your bo'sun, captain, but don't you stand 'bout
that. You take me, and I'll sarve you afore the mast as good and true
as if I was warrant officer once more. You've knowed me a lot o' years,
Sir Thomas; say a good word for me."
"I'll say you're a good fellow, Strake, and a first-class sailor," said
the admiral.
"For which I thank ye kindly, sir. But you don't say a word for a man,
Master Syd. I know I've cut up rough with you, sir, often over plums
and chyce pears as I wanted to save for the dessart, but my 'art's been
allus right for you, my lad, and never a bit o' sorrow till I see you
flying in the master's face and not wantin' to sarve the King. You
won't bear malice, sir, and 'atred in yer 'art. Say a good word."
"Yes, Barney. Do take him, father."
"It is a question of duty and of the man's ability. Look here, Strake,
if I say no, it's because I fear that you would not be smart enough at
your age. It is not a question of the will to serve."
"I should think not, sir. Why, you won't have a man of your crew more
willing to sarve you right."
"I know that; but the activity and smartness?"
"Activity, sir? Why, I'm as light as a feather, sir, and I'd run up the
ratlines and away aloft and clap my hand on the main-truck long afore
some o' your youngsters."
"Well, Strake, I'll take you."
"Why--"
"Stop a moment. It must be with the understanding that you undertake
anything I set you to do, for there may be a good boatswain aboard."
"Right, sir; any thing's my work. I'll see about my kit at once."
"Syd, you shall go with me, unless you would like to wait for a chance
on another ship."
"No, father, I'll go with you," cried Syd. "And what about Pan?"
"He can come," said the captain. "Now leave me with your uncle, I want
to talk to him at once."
A complete change seemed to have come over Barney as he made for the
open window, not walking as usual, but in a light trot upon his toes, as
if he were once more on the deck of a ship; and as soon as he was in the
garden and out of sight of the window, he folded his arms and began to
evince his delight by breaking into the first few steps of a hornpipe.
He was just in the middle of it when Pan came silently up behind with a
board in each hand, to stand gazing from Syd to his father and back
again in speechless wonderment, and evidently fully believing that the
old man had gone mad.
All at once Barney was finishing off his dance with a curve round on his
heels, but this brought him face to face with his wide-eyed, staring
son.
The effect was instantaneous. He stopped short in a peculiar attitude,
feeling quite abashed at being found so engaged, and Syd could hardly
contain his laughter at the way in which the old boatswain got out of
his difficulty.
"What now, you ugly young swab!" he roared. "Never see a sailor of the
ryle navy stretch his legs afore?"
"Is that how sailors stretches their legs?" said Pan, slowly.
"Yes, it be. Now then, what have you got to say to that?"
"You arn't a sailor, father."
"What? Hear him, Master Syd? That's just what I am, boy, and you too.
We're all on us outward bound; and now you come along, and I'll just
show you something with a rope's-end."
"Why, I aren't been doing nothing now," cried Pan, drawing back.
"Who said you had, you swab! Heave ahead. Stow talking and get that
there rope. I'm going to give you your first lesson in knotting and
splicing. Ah, you've got something to larn now, my lad. Go and run
that there barrow and them tools into the shed. No more gardening.
Come on into the yard, Master Syd, and we'll rig up that there big pole,
and a yard across it, and I'll show you both how to lay out with your
feet in the sturrup. Come on."
"But, Master Syd, father isn't going to sea again, is he?"
"Yes, Pan, we're all off to join a fine frigate."
"And make men on you both," cried Barney. "Lor', it's a wonder to me
how I've managed to live this 'long-shore life so long. Come on, my
lads. No, no, don't walk like that. Think as you've got a deck under
your feet, and run along like this."
Barney set the example, and Syd laughed again, for the gardener seemed
to have gone back ten years of big life, and trotted along as active as
a boy.