There was plenty of talk during the next fortnight's slow sailing down
into the tropics, and the captain's conduct was widely discussed, Sydney
every now and then coming upon some knot where those who considered the
captain had played a cowardly part were in the ascendant. "Nailed the
colours to the mast, and gone down together like heroes," some one said,
and Sydney, who did not want to die like a hero if he could help it, but
had the ambition of any healthy boy to live as long as possible, went
away, feeling very low-spirited, till he came upon another excited
group, at the head of whom was the boatswain.
"What!" cried the latter, in answer to a remark made by one of the
opposition; "ought to have gone at 'em and give 'em chain-shot in their
rigging, when you've got sealed orders. Look ye here, my lads, when
you've been afloat as long as I have, you'll know that whether you're
able seaman, or luff, cap, or admiral, you've got to obey. Our orders
is to go right away to the West Indies, and not stop playing on the
road. Strikes me as nothing would have pleased the skipper better than
a game of bowls with the Parley Voos. I've sailed with him before."
"Oh, yes; you've often said that," cried one of the men.
"And I says it again, Tom Rogers. And I says this here too--don't you
let him hear you say anything o' that kind, or you might have it
repeated till it got into the cabin."
"Why, what did I say?" protested the man.
"That our skipper was a coward."
"That I didn't. Never said such a word."
"But you and lots more have said what meant it, and my advice is this
here--don't do it again, unless you want your back scratched by the
bo'sun's mates."
Sydney felt better after that, and as the days glided by the idle
chatter grew less.
It was all wonderfully new to the boy, and sometimes, when the men were
allowed to catch a shark, or try to harpoon dolphins, or albicore,
beautiful mackerel-like fish, with the pronged implement they called the
grains, he found himself wondering why he had objected to go to sea.
Then as his first nervousness wore off, and, with the rapidity common to
a fresh young mind, he acquired the ordinary knowledge of his duty, he
was always to the front in little bits of routine such as fell to the
lot of the middies. So prominent was he in these matters, that one day,
after some hours of busy training, Roylance came to him.
"First luff wants to speak to you, Belton," he said.
Sydney flushed, and then the colour faded.
"What have I been doing?" he said, hastily.
"Ah, you'll see," said Roylance, with a very serious shake of the head.
"Belt going up to the first luff," cried little Jenkins. "Oh, my! I'm
sorry for you, old fellow."
"What's Belton in for it?" said Bolton. "Never mind, old chap. If it's
mast-head, there's a beautiful view."
"And I'll give you a bit of rope to tie yourself on with, so that you
won't fall when you go to sleep," whispered Jenkins.
"Ah! and mind you fall when she heels over to leeward," said Bolton,
hastily; "then you'll drop into the sea."
"Get some biscuits for the poor beggar, Bolton," cried Jenkins.
"Perhaps he'll be kept up there for a week!"
"You'd better look sharp," whispered Roylance. "He don't like to be
kept waiting."
"They're only making fun of me," thought Sydney, as he drew himself up,
went hurriedly to where the first lieutenant was scanning the horizon
with a glass, and waited till he had done, feeling very squeamish and
uncomfortable the while.
He stood there for some minutes, glancing behind him once, to see, as he
expected, that his tormentors were keeping an eye upon him to see the
result of his interview with the great magnate, who seemed to rule the
ship--after the captain had had his say.
It was painful work to stand there studying the set of the first
lieutenant's pigtail, the cock of his hat, and the seams and buttons of
his coat, till the glass was lowered, tucked under this marine grand
vizier's arm, and he said angrily, as if speaking to a fish which sprang
out of the water--
"I told Mr Roylance to send that boy here."
"_Beg_ pardon, sir; I've been here some time," said Sydney, touching his
hat.
"And suppose you have, young gentleman; it's your duty to wait, is it
not?" said the lieutenant, sharply.
"Yes, sir."
"Don't speak. If you want to be a good smart officer, listen, and don't
make remarks till you are asked."
Sydney wanted to say, "You asked me a question, sir," but he held his
peace.
"Now, Mr Belton," said the lieutenant, eyeing him severely, "I suppose
you know that you occupy a very awkward position on board this ship?
Don't answer."
"What's coming?" thought Sydney, who was perspiring freely.
"You are the captain's son."
"Yes, I know that," thought Sydney.
"And of course it naturally creates a little prejudice or jealousy
against you."
"Oh, do please put me out of my misery," thought Syd.
"Mr Dallas has been talking to me about you a good deal."
"What have I done to offend the second luff?" thought Syd.
"And I quite agree with him."
"What can it be?" thought Syd.
"Now I am going to give you a bit of advice."
"Yes, sir; thank--"
"I told you not to speak, sir," cried the lieutenant, angrily. "I
advise you not to be conceited, not to jump at the conclusion that you
are very clever, and not to begin to domineer over your messmates
because they flatter and fawn upon you on the strength of your having
thrashed Mr Terry. You see I hear all these things."
Sydney felt the colour rising.
"Take that advice and you may, if you attend well to your studies in
navigation, become a respectable officer. Life is not all play, my lad,
so think that one of these days you will be going up for your
examination to pass for lieutenant. Don't waste your time, and find
yourself, when a call is made upon you, perfectly helpless and be turned
back. It will be years first, but years soon spin round. There, I
think that is all I have to say."
"Frightened me nearly into fits, and only wanted to say that," thought
Sydney.
"No. Just another word. You think me a very gruff, fault-finding
fellow, don't you?"
Sydney was silent.
"I asked you, Mr Belton, if you did not find me a very severe officer.
Why don't you answer?"
"Told me not, sir."
"Humph! Yes; I did. But you may answer now. You do find me very
severe?"
"Yes, sir; very."
"And you don't like me?"
"No, sir."
"Humph! That's frank, sir. But I like it. Shall I tell you why you
don't like me? I will. Because I do my duty rigidly. Now one word
more. Don't say a word to your messmates about what I tell you now.
It's our secret, Mr Belton; and don't presume upon it, and go
backwards."
"I'll try not, sir."
"Good. Then look here. You have been a very short time on board, and I
have often found fault with you; but I like to be just. On the whole,
Mr Belton, I am very much pleased with your conduct. I felt prejudiced
against you, as I was afraid I was to have an addition to my young
monkeys in the shape of a spoiled, petted boy. I was ignorant then, for
I did not know Captain Belton so well as I do now. There: go to your
duties. You are awkward, clumsy, ignorant, and sadly wanting; but you
have got on wonderfully, and I think you will turn out a very smart
officer before you have done. That will do."
Sydney wanted to say a great deal, but he felt that he was dismissed,
and he left the deck and went down below, to avoid his messmates.
Not an easy task, for they were after him directly.
"This isn't the way to the mast-head," cried Jenks.
"Want the rope and the biscuit?" said Bolton.
"What have you been doing?" cried Roylance.
"Nearly everything that's wrong."
"Then he has been wigging you?"
"Yes."
"I know. It's because you didn't touch your hat to him the other day,"
said another of the boys.
Sydney was going to speak, but he caught sight of Terry lounging towards
them, and that made him reticent.
Time glided on, and then came the cry, "Land ho!" with everybody ready
to gaze eagerly at the low-looking cloud lying far away on the water
where sea and sky met. This cloud gradually assumed the appearance of
land, and Sydney gazed wonderingly at the island of Barbadoes, and began
to ask himself whether he would be able to get leave to go ashore.
But there was no landing allowed. The stay was too brief, and before
long they were sailing away toward the wonderful chain of islands that
lie in the intensely blue Caribbean Sea.
Jamaica at last, after a long calm, a name associated in Sydney's mind
with sugar, molasses, and rum. But to the great disappointment of all
on board, there was to be no landing; even there the middies having to
be content to buy cocoa-nuts, oranges, and sweetmeats off the black
women whose boats hovered about the anchored frigate.
There was a sister ship lying here, the _Orion_, just fresh in from a
cruise round the islands, and the two captains were in constant
communication, for here it proved to be, and not at Barbadoes, that
Captain Belton was to open his sealed orders and learn definitely what
were to be his next steps.
What they were to be troubled the midshipmen very little, for there they
were at anchor at what seemed to be a paradise--all waving grass, blue
mountain, rivulet, and sunshine. An island of beauty set in an amethyst
sea.
"And we can't go ashore," cried Jenkins. "I've a good mind to swim for
it."
"One mouthful for the first shark," said Roylance.
"Eh, what? sharks? No sharks here, are there?"
"Harbour swarms with them."
"Gammon!"
"Ask any of the men who have been here before, then," said Roylance.
"But, really, Roy? No gammon!"
"It's a fact, I tell you. Try it, if you doubt me."
"N-no," said Jenkins, coolly; "you see one would have to swim in one's
uniform, and get ashore so wet."
"Naturally," said Roylance, laughing.
"No," said Jenkins, "I wouldn't swim ashore naturally. Looks so bad.
I'll stop aboard."
"Hullo, Bolton; what's the matter?" cried another of the middies.
"Asked leave?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"Said he'd mast-head the next fellow who asked leave to go ashore."
"Strikes me we're off somewhere directly," said Roylance. "Let's send
Belton into the cabin to ask his father what he's going to do."
"I shouldn't like to be Belt then," said Jenkins. "Fancy the captain's
face. Hullo! What's that?"
"Somebody coming on board."
"No! it's up anchor. We're off again."
"What a shame!" was chorussed; but the disappointment was forgotten
directly in eagerness to know their new destination, somewhere else
evidently in the deep blue western sea, and as the _Orion_ was weighing
anchor too, it was likely that they were going to have stirring times.
"Two trim frigates," said Roylance, as they leaned over the taffrail and
watched the beautiful receding shore. "Ah, Belt, if we were to meet
those Mounseers now, I don't think your father would run away."