Syd Belton Part 28

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 mids.h.i.+pman.

"Ho!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed 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 c.o.c.ky 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 mids.h.i.+pman, 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 s.h.i.+p, 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 c.o.xswain 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 s.h.i.+p that people pa.s.sed 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 mids.h.i.+pmen 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 mids.h.i.+pmen," said Syd, quickly.

"With the mids.h.i.+pmen, not the _other_ mids.h.i.+pmen," said Terry, with a sneer. "You are not a mids.h.i.+pman, 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 gla.s.s 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 s.h.i.+p's barber and have a shave before we go in."

"No, thank you," said Syd, laughing, "I don't shave."

"Remarkable," said Roylance.