"Have they come, Syd, lad?" said the admiral, as the boy walked into the
private room of the Red Lion, Shoreport, where the old man had taken up
his quarters for the past fortnight, and had spent his time down at the
docks, where the _Sirius_ was being overhauled in her rigging, and was
getting in her stores and ammunition ready for her start to the West
Indian station in another week's time.
The coach had not long come in, and on hearing the horn the old sailor,
with a twinkle in his eye, had sent the lad to do exactly what he
wanted, but would have shrunk from for fear of seeming particular.
"Yes, uncle," he said quietly, "a box has come."
"Well, well, where is it?"
"I told him to put it in my bedroom."
"Well, why don't you go and open it, and see if your outfit is all
right?"
"Oh, there's plenty of time, uncle," said Syd, with assumed
carelessness.
"Yah! get out, you miserable young humbug. Think I was never a boy
myself, and don't know what it means. You're red-hot to go and look at
your duds. There, be off and put on your full-dress uniform, and then
come down and let's see."
"Put them on, uncle, now?"
"Yes; put them on now," cried the old man, imitating his nephew's voice
and manner. "Yes, put them on--now. Not ashamed of the King's livery,
are you?"
"No, sir, of course not."
"Then go and put them on, and don't come down with your cocked hat wrong
way on."
Syd hesitated, feeling a little abashed, but his uncle half jumped out
of his seat.
"Be off, you disobedient young dog," he roared. "If you don't want to
see them, I do. There, I'll give you a quarter of an hour."
Sydney took half an hour, and then hesitated about going down-stairs.
He peeped out of his room twice, but there was always some one on the
stairs, chambermaid, waiter, or guest staying in the place.
At last, though, all seemed perfectly quiet, and fixing his cocked hat
tightly on his head, and holding his dirk with one hand to keep it from
swinging about and striking the balusters, he ran along the passage and
dashed down the stairs.
The quick movement caused his cocked hat to come down in front over his
eyes, and before he had raised it again he had run right into the arms
of the stout landlady. There was a shrill scream, and the lady was
seated on the mat, while by the force of the rebound Sydney was sitting
on the stairs, from which post he sprang up to offer his apologies.
"You shouldn't, my dear," said the landlady, piteously, as she stretched
out her hands like a gigantic baby who wanted to be helped up.
Sydney's instincts prompted him to rush on to his father's small
sitting-room, but politeness and the appeal of the lady compelled him to
stay; and after he had raised her to her proper perpendicular, she
smiled and cast her eyes over his uniform, making the boy colour like a
girl.
"Well, you do look nice," she said; "only don't knock me down again.
There, I'm not hurt. They're quite new, ain't they?"
Sydney nodded.
"I thought so, because you haven't got them on quite right."
Sydney stopped to hear no more, but ran on, checked himself, and tried
to walk past three waiters in the entry with dignity.
He did not achieve this, because if he had the waiters would not have
laughed and put their napkins to their mouths, on drawing back to let
him pass.
"Oh, shouldn't I like to!" he thought, as he set his teeth and clenched
his fists.
He felt very miserable and as if he was being made a laughing-stock; in
fact his sensations were exactly those of a sensitive lad who appears in
uniform for the first time; and hence he was in anything but a peaceful
state of mind as he dashed into the room where his uncle was waiting, to
be greeted with a roar of laughter.
"What a time you have been, sir! Why, Syd, I don't think much of your
legs, and, hang it all, your belt's too loose, and they don't fit you.
Bah! you haven't half dressed yourself. Come here. Takes me back fifty
years, boy, to see you like that."
"Why did you tell me to go and put them on?" cried the boy, angrily, "if
you only meant to laugh at me?"
"Bah! nonsense! What do you mean, sir? Are you going to be so
thin-skinned that you can't bear to be joked? Come here."
The boy stood by his side.
"I was going to show you how to take up your belt and to button your
waistcoat. There! that's better. Flying out like that at me because I
laughed! How will you get along among your messmates, who are sure to
begin roasting you as soon as you go aboard?"
"I beg your pardon, uncle. I seemed to feel so ridiculous, and
everybody laughed."
"Let them. There! that's better. See how a touch or two from one who
knows turns a slovenly look into one that's smart. Hallo! some one at
the door, my lad; go and see. No; stop. Come in."
The door was opened, and Barney in his uniform of petty officer entered,
looking smartened up into a man ten years younger than when he worked in
the garden at the Heronry.
As Barney took off his hat and entered, closing the door behind him, his
eyes lit first upon Syd, and his face puckered up into a broad grin.
"And now you!" cried Sydney, angrily. "Uncle, I'm not fit to wear a
uniform; I look ridiculous."
"Who says so?" cried the old man, angrily. "Here you, Strake, don't
stand grinning there like a corbel on an old church."
"Couldn't help it, your honour."
"There, you see, uncle."
"I don't, sir. Going to let the grin of that confounded fellow upset
you? If he laughs at you again because he thinks you are a fool, show
him that you're not one; knock him down."
"His honour the captain's compliments, Sir Thomas, and he'd be glad to
see you on board along o' Master Sydney here."
"Is your master on board, then?"
"Ay, sir; and I've come across in the gig, as is waiting for us with one
of the young gentlemen to keep the men in their places."
"Right; we'll come," said the old admiral. "Now, Syd," he whispered,
"do you know why people laugh?"
"Yes, uncle, at me."
"Well, yes, my lad; so they did at me years ago. But you don't know
why."
"I think I do, uncle."
"No, boy, you do not; you look as if you had got on your uniform for the
first time. We're going out now, so look as if you hadn't got it on for
the first time. Hold up your head, cock your hat, and if you look at
people, don't look as if you were wondering what they thought of you,
but as if you were taking his weight. See?"
"Yes, uncle, I think I do. But must I go like this?"
"Confound you, sir!" growled the old man. "Why do you talk like that?"
"Because I look absurd."
"Oh, that's it, is it? Then look here, Syd, I'll prove that you don't."
"If you can prove that, uncle, I shall never mind wearing a uniform
again."
"Then you need not mind, boy, for if you looked absurd I wouldn't be
seen with you. Now then, hold up your head, and remember you are a
king's officer. March!"
The old man gave his cane a thump, cocked his own hat, and stamped along
by the side of his nephew. Pan, who was outside waiting for his
father's return, staring wide-eyed at Sydney's uniform, and then
following behind with Barney, wishing he was allowed to wear a little
gilded sword like that.
In this way they walked down to the boat, which lay a short distance
from the landing-place, with a handsome boy in middy's uniform leaning
back in the stern-sheets, and keeping strict watch on his men to keep
them from yielding to the attraction of one of the public-houses,
stronger than that of duty.
Barney stepped forward and hailed the boat, which was quickly rowed
alongside, the coxswain holding on as the admiral stepped in, followed
by his nephew, who found himself directly after beside the good-looking,
dark-complexioned middy, who took the helm, and gave the order to give
way. The oars fell with a splash, and Sydney felt that he was at last
afloat and on his way to join the frigate.
The admiral took snuff, and after a word or two with the middy in charge
of the boat, sat gazing silently about him, while from time to time
Sydney turned his eyes to find that his companion was examining him
closely, and with a supercilious air which made the new addition to the
midshipmen's mess feel irritable and ready to resent any insult.
But none was offered, and the men rowed on, till after threading their
way through quite a forest of masts the frigate was sighted.
"There she lies, Syd," whispered his uncle; "as fine a craft as you need
wish to see. What's your name, youngster?"
"Michael Terry," said the midshipman.
"Ho!" ejaculated the admiral. "Well, this is my nephew, Sydney Belton,
your new messmate. I hope you'll be very good friends."
"I'm sure we shan't," said the young fellow to himself. "Too cocky for
me. But we can soon cut his comb."
"Arn't you going to shake hands, youngsters?"
"Oh, yes, if you like," said the youth. "There's my hand."
Sydney put out his, but somehow the hand-shake which followed did not
seem to be a friendly one, and more than once afterwards he thought
about that first grip.
"Ah, that's right," said the admiral; "always be good friends with your
messmates."
Syd looked up quickly, and a feeling of angry resentment made his cheeks
flush, for his eyes encountered those of the midshipman, and being
exceedingly sensitive that day, it seemed to him that Terry was laughing
in his sleeve at Sir Thomas.
Syd's eyes flashed, and the young officer stared at him haughtily in
return, his glance seeming to say, "Well, I shall laugh at the
comical-looking old boy if I like."
The eye encounter which had commenced was checked by Sir Thomas suddenly
turning to his nephew.
"There's your ship, boy," he said, "and I wish you luck in her."
Syd looked in the direction pointed out, to see the long, graceful
vessel lying at anchor with quite a swarm of men busy aloft bending on
new sails, renewing the running-rigging, and repairing the damages
caused her in a severe encounter with a storm. And as he gazed with an
unpleasant feeling of shrinking troubling him, the boat rapidly neared
the side, the oars were thrown up, the coxswain deftly manoeuvred the
stern close to the ladder, held on, and Sir Thomas rose and went up the
side with an activity that seemed wonderful for his years.
Then with a sensation of singing in his ears, and confused and puzzled
by the novelty of all around, Sydney Belton somehow found himself
standing on deck facing his father, who came forward to meet the
admiral, then gave him a nod and a look which took in his uniform before
he went aft, leaving the new-comer standing alone and feeling horribly
strange, and in everybody's way.
For the boat's crew were busy making fast the gig in which they had come
aboard, and Syd had to move three times, each position he took up
seeming to be worse.
He wanted to go after Sir Thomas, but did not like to stir, and he felt
all the more uncomfortable as he noticed that people kept looking at
him, and talking to one another about him, he felt sure.
"Where can Barney be gone?" he muttered, angrily. "How stupid to leave
me standing dressed up like this for every one to stare at! Father
ought to have stopped."
He gave a furtive glance to the left, and the blood flushed in his
cheeks again as he caught sight of Terry, who was talking to another lad
of his own age in uniform, and Syd felt that they must be talking about
him; and if he had felt any doubt before, their action would have
endorsed his opinion, for they smiled at one another and walked away.
"It's too bad," he said to himself; "they must know how horribly strange
I feel."
"Hullo, squire! Who are you?"
Syd turned round to face the speaker, for the words had, as it were,
been barked almost into his ear, and he had heard no one approach, for
it had seemed to be one of the peculiarities of aboard ship that people
passed to and fro and by him without making a sound.
He found himself facing a stern, middle-aged man in uniform, who looked
him over at a glance, and Syd flinched again, for the officer smiled
slightly, not a pleasant smile, for it seemed as if he were going to
bite.
"I am Sydney Belton, sir."
"Eh? Oh, the captain's boy. Yes, of course. In full rig, eh? Well,
why don't you go below? You look so strange."
"Does he mean in uniform?" thought Syd.
"Yes, sir," he said aloud. "My father has gone down there."
"Aft, boy, aft; don't say down there. Well, why don't you go below?
Seen your messmates?"
"I have seen the young officer who came with us in the boat."
"Eh? Who was that? Yes, I remember. Well, he ought to have taken you
down. Here, Mr Terry, Mr Roylance--oh, there you are!--take Mr
Belton down and introduce him to his messmates; and, I say, youngster--
no, never mind now. Look sharp and learn your duties. Hi! you sirs,
what are you doing with that yard?" he yelled out to some men up aloft,
and he walked nimbly away just as the two midshipmen joined Syd.
"Thought, as you were the captain's son, you might be going to have your
quarters in the cabin," said Terry, with a sneering look in his face.
"Be better there, wouldn't he, Roy?"
"I should think so," said the other, looking at the new-comer
quizzically.
"My father said I should have to be with the other midshipmen," said
Syd, quickly.
"With the midshipmen, not the _other_ midshipmen," said Terry, with a
sneer. "You are not a midshipman, are you?"
"I suppose I am going to be one when I have learned how," replied
Sydney, shortly. "My father said that I was not to expect any favours
because I was the captain's son."
"Did he now?" said Roylance; "and what did your mother say?"
Syd winced, and looked so sharply at the speaker that the latter
pretended to be startled.
"Wo ho!" he cried. "I say, Terry, this chap's a fire-eater; a bit
wild."
"Here, come along down, youngster. Don't banter him, Hoy," said Terry,
who had noticed that the officer who had given the order was coming
back, and he led the way toward the companion-ladder.
"Who's that gentleman in uniform?" said Sydney. "Eh? That one?" said
Terry, looking in another direction. "Oh, that's the purser. You'll
have to be very civil to him--ask him to dinner and that sort of thing."
"No, no, I wouldn't do that at first," said Roylance, as they descended.
"Ask him to have a glass of grog with you."
"Yes," said Terry. "Get to the dinner by and by. Pray how old are
you?"
"Between sixteen and seventeen," replied Sydney, who writhed under his
companion's supercilious ways, but was determined to make friends if he
could.
"Are you though?" said Roylance. "Fine boy for his age; eh, Mike?"
"Very. Mind your head, youngster. We're going to have all this
properly lighted now, I suppose. Our last captain did not give much
thought to the 'tween decks. By the way, the young gentlemen of our
mess are a bit particular. He ought to show to the best advantage, eh,
Roy, and make a good impression."
"Yes, of course."
"Perhaps," continued Terry, turning to Syd, "you'd like to see the
ship's barber and have a shave before we go in."
"No, thank you," said Syd, laughing, "I don't shave."
"Remarkable," said Roylance.
"Don't banter, Roy," cried Terry. "The young gentleman is strange, and
you take advantage, and begin to be funny. Don't you take any notice of
him. By the way though, I didn't introduce you. This is Mr William
Roylance, Esquire. Father's not a captain, but a bishop, priest, or
deacon, or something of that kind. Very good young man, but don't you
lend him money! I say, see that door?"
"Yes," said Sydney, looking at a dimly-seen opening barely lit by a
smoky lanthorn.
"Thought I'd show you. Hot water baths in there if you ever wash."
"Ever wash?" said Syd, wonderingly.
"Yes. We do here--a little--when there is any water. Rather particular
on board a frigate. Here we are."
He led the way to where in a dimly-lit hole, so it seemed to Sydney,
about half a dozen youths were seated beneath a swinging lanthorn busily
engaged in some game, which consisted in driving a penny-piece along a
dirty wooden table, scoured with lines and spotted with blackened drops
of tallow.
The coming, as it seemed, of a visitor, in all the neatness and show of
a spick and span new uniform, caused a cessation of the game and its
accompanying noise; but before a word was spoken, Sydney had taken in at
a glance the dingy aspect of the place, and had time to consider whether
this was the midshipmen's berth.
"Here you are, gentlemen," shouted Terry. "Your new messmate: the boy
with a belt on."
"Let him take it off then," cried a voice. "Come on, youngster, here's
room. Got any money?"
Syd thought of his new uniform and felt disposed to shrink, but he did
not hesitate. He had an idea that if he was to share the mess of the
lads about him, the sooner he was on friendly terms the better, so he
nodded and went forward; but his pace was increased by a sudden thrust
from behind, which sent him against the end of the table, and his hat
flying to the other side.
"Shame! shame!" cried Terry, loudly, and there was a roar of laughter.
"Look here, Roy, I won't have it; it's too bad. Not hurt, are you,
Belton?"
"No," said Syd, turning and looking him full in the face; "only a little
to find you should think me such a fool as not to know you pushed me."
"I? Come, young fellow, you'll have to learn manners."
He moved threateningly toward Syd, but the latter did not heed him, for
his attention was taken up by what was going on at the table, for one of
the lads cried out--
"Any one want a new hat? Too big for me."
"Let me try."
"No; pass it here."
"Get out, I want one most."
There was a roar of laughter, and Syd bit his lip as he saw his new hat
snatched about from one to the other, and tried on in all sorts of ways,
back front, amidships, over the eyes, over the ears, and it was by no
means improved when the new hand snatched it back and turned to face
Terry.
"Look here, sir," said the latter, haughtily; "you had the insolence to
accuse me of having pushed you."
There was a dead silence as Sydney stood brushing his hat with the
sleeve of his coat, and without shrinking, for there was a curious
ebullition going on in his breast. He did not look up, for he was
fighting--self, and thinking about his new uniform in a peculiar way.
That is to say, in connection with dirty floors, scuffles, falls, the
dragging about of rough hands, etcetera.
"Do you hear what I say, sir?" continued Terry, loudly, and every neck
was craned forward in the dim cockpit.
"Yes, I heard what you said," replied Syd, huskily; and then he bit his
lip and tried to force down the feeling of rage which was in his breast.
"And I heard what you said, sir," cried Terry, ruffling up like a
game-cock, and thinking to awe the new reefer and impress the lads
present, over whom he ruled with a mighty hand. "You are amongst
gentlemen here, and we don't allow new greenhorns or country bumpkins to
come and insult us."
"I don't want to insult anybody," said Syd, in a low tone. "I want to
be friends, as my father told me to be."
"But you insulted me, sir. You said I pushed you just now."
"So you did," cried Sydney, a little more loudly.
"What?" cried Terry, threateningly.
"And then shammed that it was that other middy."
A murmur of excitement ran round the mess.
"Why, you insolent young cub," cried Terry, seizing Sydney by the collar
of his coat; but quick as thought his hand was struck aside, and the two
lads were chest to chest, glaring in each other's eyes.
"Oh, that's it, is it?" cried Terry, with a mocking laugh. "Well, the
sooner he has his plateful of humble-pie the better; eh, lads?"
The murmur of excitement increased.
"Then I shall have to fight," thought Syd; but at that moment a gruff
voice exclaimed--
"Cap'en wants you, Master Syd. Admiral's going ashore."