Syd Belton Part 29

"Don't banter, Roy," cried Terry. "The young gentleman is strange, and you take advantage, and begin to be funny. Don't you take any notice of him. By the way though, I didn't introduce you. This is Mr William Roylance, Esquire. Father's not a captain, but a bishop, priest, or deacon, or something of that kind. Very good young man, but don't you lend him money! I say, see that door?"

"Yes," said Sydney, looking at a dimly-seen opening barely lit by a smoky lanthorn.

"Thought I'd show you. Hot water baths in there if you ever wash."

"Ever wash?" said Syd, wonderingly.

"Yes. We do here--a little--when there is any water. Rather particular on board a frigate. Here we are."

He led the way to where in a dimly-lit hole, so it seemed to Sydney, about half a dozen youths were seated beneath a swinging lanthorn busily engaged in some game, which consisted in driving a penny-piece along a dirty wooden table, scoured with lines and spotted with blackened drops of tallow.

The coming, as it seemed, of a visitor, in all the neatness and show of a spick and span new uniform, caused a cessation of the game and its accompanying noise; but before a word was spoken, Sydney had taken in at a glance the dingy aspect of the place, and had time to consider whether this was the midshipmen's berth.

"Here you are, gentlemen," shouted Terry. "Your new messmate: the boy with a belt on."

"Let him take it off then," cried a voice. "Come on, youngster, here's room. Got any money?"

Syd thought of his new uniform and felt disposed to shrink, but he did not hesitate. He had an idea that if he was to share the mess of the lads about him, the sooner he was on friendly terms the better, so he nodded and went forward; but his pace was increased by a sudden thrust from behind, which sent him against the end of the table, and his hat flying to the other side.

"Shame! shame!" cried Terry, loudly, and there was a roar of laughter.

"Look here, Roy, I won't have it; it's too bad. Not hurt, are you, Belton?"

"No," said Syd, turning and looking him full in the face; "only a little to find you should think me such a fool as not to know you pushed me."

"I? Come, young fellow, you'll have to learn manners."

He moved threateningly toward Syd, but the latter did not heed him, for his attention was taken up by what was going on at the table, for one of the lads cried out--

"Any one want a new hat? Too big for me."

"Let me try."

"No; pa.s.s it here."

"Get out, I want one most."

There was a roar of laughter, and Syd bit his lip as he saw his new hat s.n.a.t.c.hed about from one to the other, and tried on in all sorts of ways, back front, amidships, over the eyes, over the ears, and it was by no means improved when the new hand s.n.a.t.c.hed it back and turned to face Terry.

"Look here, sir," said the latter, haughtily; "you had the insolence to accuse me of having pushed you."

There was a dead silence as Sydney stood brushing his hat with the sleeve of his coat, and without shrinking, for there was a curious ebullition going on in his breast. He did not look up, for he was fighting--self, and thinking about his new uniform in a peculiar way.

That is to say, in connection with dirty floors, scuffles, falls, the dragging about of rough hands, etcetera.

"Do you hear what I say, sir?" continued Terry, loudly, and every neck was craned forward in the dim c.o.c.kpit.

"Yes, I heard what you said," replied Syd, huskily; and then he bit his lip and tried to force down the feeling of rage which was in his breast.

"And I heard what you said, sir," cried Terry, ruffling up like a game-c.o.c.k, and thinking to awe the new reefer and impress the lads present, over whom he ruled with a mighty hand. "You are amongst gentlemen here, and we don't allow new greenhorns or country b.u.mpkins to come and insult us."

"I don't want to insult anybody," said Syd, in a low tone. "I want to be friends, as my father told me to be."

"But you insulted me, sir. You said I pushed you just now."

"So you did," cried Sydney, a little more loudly.

"What?" cried Terry, threateningly.

"And then shammed that it was that other middy."

A murmur of excitement ran round the mess.

"Why, you insolent young cub," cried Terry, seizing Sydney by the collar of his coat; but quick as thought his hand was struck aside, and the two lads were chest to chest, glaring in each other's eyes.

"Oh, that's it, is it?" cried Terry, with a mocking laugh. "Well, the sooner he has his plateful of humble-pie the better; eh, lads?"

The murmur of excitement increased.

"Then I shall have to fight," thought Syd; but at that moment a gruff voice exclaimed--

"Cap'en wants you, Master Syd. Admiral's going ash.o.r.e."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

"Why, what was up, sir?" whispered Barney, whose timely appearance put an end to the discussion. "Wasn't going to be a fight, weer it?"

"I suppose so, Barney," said Syd, rather dolefully.

"Then it'll have to be yet, lad; but it's a bit early."

"Yes, Barney."

"They didn't lose no time in 'tackling on yer."

"No, Barney."

"Well, lad, it's part of a reefer's eddication, so you'll have to go through with it. You're a toughish chickin as can whack my Pan; and he knows how to fight, as lots o' the big lads knows at home."

"I don't want to fight," said Sydney, bitterly.

"No, my lad, but you've got to now. Well, that there's a big un, and he'll lick you safe; but you give him a tough job to do it, and then all t'others 'll let you alone."

"Well, Syd, lad; seen your new messmates?" cried a cheery voice.

"Yes, uncle, I've seen them."

"That's right, boy. I'm going ash.o.r.e now. I'm proud of your ship, Syd, proud of the crew, and proud of you, my lad. Keep your head up, and may I live to see you posted. No, that's too much, but I must see you wear your first swab."