Syd Belton

"Hurray!" whispered Bolton, bending down and squeezing his hands between his knees; "he'll lick him."

"Eh? I thought he was your man."

"A beast! He's always knocking us about," whispered Bolton. "Hurray!

go it, Belt."

The adversaries were face to face again, and there was a breathless silence.

"Had enough?" panted Terry.

"No, not half," cried Syd, rus.h.i.+ng at him.

"Look at that! See his teeth?" said Barney. "That's British bull-dog, that is. Master Syd never fights till he's made, but when he does--My eye! that was a crack."

But it was not Barney's eye. It was Terry's, and the blow was so sharp that the receiver went down into a corner, and refused to get up again, while the subjects of the fallen king crowded round the victor eager to shake hands.

"No, no," panted Syd; "don't: my knuckles are all bleeding. What's my face like?" he said sharply to Roylance.

"Knocked about; but never mind that, Belton; you've won."

"I don't mind," was the reply; "and I don't want to win. Are you much hurt?" he continued, going to Terry's corner, where the vanquished hero was still seated upon the floor with little Jenkins, with much sympathy, offering to sponge his face.

"I'm sorry we fought," said Syd, quietly. "Shake hands."

There was no reply.

"You're not hurt much, are you?"

Terry gave him one quick look, and then let his head down on his chest.

"You'll shake hands?" said Syd. "We can be friends now."

Still no notice.

"Shake hands, Mike Terry," piped little Jenkins. "You've licked everybody, and it was quite your turn."

"Hold your tongue, you little wretch," hissed the other. "I owe you something for this."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the impish little fellow, beginning to caper about with the sponge. "You touch me again and I'll get Belton to give you your gruel. You nasty great coward, you've got it at last."

"Don't you be a coward," said Syd, sharply.

"Here, one of you take that basin and sponge away from Jenks," said Terry, getting up painfully. "He wouldn't have done this if I hadn't hurt one of my arms."

"Well, if I was licked fair like that, I would own to it," said Bolton.

"It was fair, wasn't it, Roy?"

"As fair as a fight could be," was the reply.

"Yes," said Barney, thrusting in his head, "that was as fair as could be, Master Syd."

"What you, Barney!"

"Bo'sun, sir. I wouldn't interrupt you afore, 'cause I knowed you wouldn't like it, but the captain wants to see you."

"What!" cried Sydney, as he clapped his hands to his swollen nose and lips. "Wants to see me?"

"Soon as ever he's done his braxfa.s.s, sir."

"Oh, what shall I do?" cried Syd.

"Dunno, sir," said the boatswain, grinning, "unless you sends word you're sea-sick, for you do look bad."

"No, no, I can't do that."

"Oh, I dunno, sir," said the boatswain, chuckling. "You was sea-sick months before you joined your s.h.i.+p, so I don't see why you shouldn't be now. My Panny-mar's got it too. Took bad last night."

"What, has he been fighting?"

"Didn't ask him, sir; but he can't see out of his eyes, and when I asked him how he felt, he grinned like all on one side."

"I heard there was a fight with a new boy," piped out Jenkins. "Had it out with Monkey Bill and licked him. Was that your boy, bo'sun?"

"That's him, sir. We all comes of a fighting breed; him and me and the cap'en and Master Syd here. Skipper's awful, and I shall be sorry for the Frenchies and Spanles as he tackles. Well, Master Syd, what am I to tell the captain's sarvant 'bout you?"

"Go and ask to see the captain," said Syd, firmly, "and tell him that I have been having a fight, and am not fit to come."

"Hear that?" said the boatswain, looking proudly round--"hear that, young gen'lemen? That's Bri'sh bull-dog, that is. What do you think of your messmate now?"

The middies gave a cheer, and crowded round Syd as Terry bent over the locker to bathe his swollen face, and he looked up once, but did not say a word.

"Some says fighting among boys is a bad thing," muttered the boatswain, as he went on deck, "and I don't approve of it. But when one chap bullies all the rest, same as when one country begins to wallop all the others, what are you to do?"

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

As Bo'sun Strake reached the deck, he came suddenly upon the first lieutenant, and touched his hat.

"Where have you been, my man?"

"Down below, sir."

"I said where have you been, my man?" said the lieutenant, sternly.

"Young gentlemen's quarters, sir."

"What was going on there?"