Syd Belton Part 31

"Did the others tease you much?"

"They did and no mistake, and I got it worse because I kicked against it; and the _more_ a fellow kicks, the more they worry you."

These few friendly advances from a messmate who seemed to be one of the most likely-looking for a companion, sent a feeling of warmth through the new-comer's breast, and in spite of the coa.r.s.eness of the provisions, which were eked out with odds and ends brought by the middies from the sh.o.r.e, Sydney made a fairly satisfactory meal, the better that Terry was on duty.

"But I've got to meet him some time," thought Sydney; and he wondered how he would feel when he received that blow which was sure to come, and stamp him as one of the subordinates of the lad whom his new friend had dubbed the c.o.c.k of the walk.

In spite of the novelty of everything about him, Syd had plenty of time to feel low-spirited, and to envy the light-heartedness of his new friend, who in the course of the evening seemed to feel that further apology was due for their first encounter that day.

"I say, Belton," he said, "I am sorry I played you those tricks and sided with Terry as I did. It was all meant for a game. We have such a rough, uncomfortable life here that one gets into the habit of making fun of everything and everybody, from the captain downwards."

"Don't say any more about it," replied Sydney, holding out his hand.

"I'm not such a milksop that I mind it."

"That's right," cried Roylance, grasping the extended hand. "You'll soon be all right with us."

"Hi! look there," cried a squeaky-voiced little fellow at the end of the table; "there's old Roy making friends with the new fellow. I say, Belt, don't you believe him. He'll want to borrow money to-morrow."

_Bang_!

"No, you didn't," cried the little middy, who had ducked cleverly and avoided half a loaf which Roylance threw at his head and struck the bulkhead instead.

"You'll have to be stopped, Jenkins," said Roylance. "You've got off so far because you are such a miserable little beggar."

"Don't you believe him, Belt," cried the little fellow, who had a withered, old-mannish look, and an exceedingly small nose, like a peg in the middle of his face. "Roy's afraid of me. Look at that."

He slipped off his coat, drew up his sleeve, and exhibited his muscle in a pugnacious fas.h.i.+on, which brought forth a roar of laughter.

"Baby Jenks fights best with his tongue," said Roylance, coolly. "We shall have to cut it before he grows civil."

The rattle of the chattering tongues went on till bedtime, and at last, for the first time in his life, Sydney found himself lying in a hammock, tired out but confused, and hardly able to realise that he was down below in a close place, with his face not many inches from the ceiling with its beams and rings. Talking was going on upon each side. The place was very dark, and there was a dim-looking lantern swinging some distance away in the middle of what seemed to be a luminous fog.

He lay there thinking that the hammock was not so very uncomfortable, only he did not feel quite at home with his head and heels high, and as every time he moved he felt as if he must fall, he at last lay very still, thinking how strange it all was, and how he seemed to be completely separated from his father, as much so as if they were in different s.h.i.+ps.

Then after coming to the conclusion that he rather liked Roylance, but that he should never care for life aboard s.h.i.+p, the light from the lanthorn swung to and fro a little, and then all was perfectly black where it had hung the minute before.

This did not trouble Syd, for it seemed quite a matter of course that the light should be put out, and so he lay thinking over all that had pa.s.sed that day--that he was glad Barney Strake and Pan were on board; that Roy lance seemed to be so friendly; then that he should have to stand up and meet Terry before very long and allow himself to be thrashed. Then he thought about nothing at all, for that pleasant, restful sensation that precedes sleep came over him, and all was blank till he felt a curious shock and was wide-awake.

"Here, hi! What's the matter?" shouted a squeaky voice.

"I--I don't know," said Sydney, feeling about him and gradually realising that he was on the floor among his blankets. "I think the rope of my hammock has broken."

There was an outburst of t.i.ttering at this, and now it began to dawn upon him that he was the victim of some trick.

"Look here, you fellows," said a voice which Sydney recognised; "the first luff said there was to be no more of these games. Who did it?"

"Baby Jenks," said a voice, and there was a laugh.

"I didn't," squeaked the little middy; "it was one of Roy's games."

"Say it was me again, and I'll come and half smother you."

"Well, they said it was me," protested Jenkins. "I was asleep."

"Who was it?" cried Roylance again.

"Captain Belton, to make his boy sharp," said a voice out of the darkness--a voice evidently disguised by being uttered through a pair of half-closed hands.

There was a hearty laugh here, during which, feeling very miserable and dejected, Syd was groping about, trying to find out how the hammock was fastened, and in the darkness growing only more confused.

"Where are you?" said Roylance.

"Here. It's come untied, I think."

"Untied! You've been cut down."

"Cut?" said Sydney, wonderingly.

"Down. Never mind. It was only at your feet. I'll soon put you right again."

Syd stood there listening to his companions' hard breathing and the whispering and t.i.ttering going on in the other hammocks for a few minutes, during which a noise went on like as if a box was being corded.

At last this ceased.

"There you are! Where are your blankets?"

"Here; but they're all in a dreadful muddle."

There was a shout of laughter at this, and directly after Sydney heard a gruff voice say--

"Steady there, young gen'lemen. Anything the matter?"

"No; it's all right. Only some one tumbled out of bed."

There was a low grumbling sound, and Roylance whispered--

"Never mind; I'll put 'em right for you. There you are; turn in, and I don't suppose any one will upset you after to-night. If anybody comes, and you hear him, hit out."

"Thank you," said Syd, rather dolefully; "I will."

He climbed into his hammock again, and listened to the rustling sound made by Roylance and the remarks of his messmates.

"Baby Jenks was right. Old Roy means to suck every s.h.i.+lling out of the new fellow," said a voice.

"Does he, Bolton?" cried Roylance. "I know your voice."

"Why, I never spoke. 'Twasn't me," cried the accused.

"Well, it sounded like you," grumbled Roylance, and there was another roar of laughter.