Syd Belton

"No; I think he must have been standing there, using his gla.s.s, when you came."

"I did think I saw something black. Oh, I say, Belt, your dad is a Tartar."

This little episode did not tend to make Syd more comfortable, and from that hour whenever he saw any of the men or officers talking together, he immediately fancied that they must be discussing and disapproving of Captain Belton's action in running away.

It was long afterwards that Syd knew that his father's orders were to stop for nothing, but to make all speed for the West Indies, where another vessel of war was lying. Though without those orders it would have been madness to have allowed the enemy to close in and attack.

Syd was on deck at daybreak, eager to scan the horizon, but only to find that those before him of the watch had been performing the same duty with their gla.s.ses, and there was not a sail in sight.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

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

"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 p.r.o.nged 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 gla.s.s, 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 s.h.i.+p--after the captain had had his say.

It was painful work to stand there studying the set of the first lieutenant's pigtail, the c.o.c.k of his hat, and the seams and b.u.t.tons of his coat, till the gla.s.s 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 s.h.i.+p?

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--"