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Syd Belton: The Boy who would not go to Sea, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 14 |
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_ CHAPTER FOURTEEN. "What!" cried Sir Thomas, when he heard the adventures in town, "you mean to tell me that Dashleigh treated you as you say?" "Exactly," replied his brother. "My face show the marks much now?" "No; hardly at all." "Then we'll go up to town to-morrow." "What for, Tom?" said the captain. "You'll do no better than I did." "I'm not going to try, Harry," said the old gentleman, fiercely. "Then why go? You are comfortable here." "I'm going up to horsewhip that contemptible little scoundrel Dashleigh, and fight him afterwards, though he's hardly gentleman enough." "Nonsense, Tom!" "Nonsense? Why I made that fellow--and pretty waste of time too! And now he's in command of a seventy-four, and you may go begging for a word to get your boy into the midshipmen's berth." Uncle Tom did not go up to town to horsewhip or fight. "Never mind," he said, "he's sure to run his ship on the rocks, or get thrashed--a scoundrel! Here, Syd, take my advice." "What is it, uncle?" "Never do any one a kind action as long as you live." "You don't mean it, uncle." "What, sir? No, I don't: you're right." A week passed, during which Barney suggested that the proper thing for Captain Belton to do was to purchase some well-built merchant schooner, and fit her out as a privateer. "I could soon get together as smart a crew as you'd care to have, and then there'd be a chance for your son to get to be a leefftenant 'fore you knew where you were." But Captain Belton only laughed, and matters at the Heronry remained as they were, till one day with the other letters there came one that was big and official, and its effect upon the two old officers was striking. "From the Admiralty, Tom," said the captain, as he glanced at the great seal, and then began to take out his knife to slit open the fold. "I can see that," said the admiral. "It's from Claudene. Syd, lad, you're in luck. He has got you appointed to a ship, after all." "Bless my soul!" cried the captain, dropping the great missive on the table. "What is it, my lad?--what is it?" cried Sir Thomas. "Read--read," cried Captain Belton, huskily--"it's too good to believe." Sir Thomas snatched up the official letter, cast his eyes over it, and then, forgetting his gout, caught hold of Syd's hands and began to caper about the room like a maniac. "Hurrah! Bravo, Harry, my lad. I've often grumbled; but I avow it--I am past service, gouty as I am; but you were never more seaworthy." "Uncle, why don't you speak?" cried Sydney, excitedly. "Has father got a ship?" "Got a ship, my lad? He's appointed to one of the smartest in the navy--the _Sirius_ frigate, and she's ordered abroad." Captain Belton drew himself up, and his eyes flashed as in imagination he saw himself treading once more the quarter-deck of a smart ship. "It's too good to believe," he muttered--"too good to believe." "You haven't read the letter," said his brother, looking wistfully across to the tall, eager-looking man before him. "No," said Captain Belton. "Hah! from Claudene,"--and he read aloud:-- "My dear Belton, I have managed this for you, and I'm very glad, for you will do us credit. The appointment will clear away the difficulty about your boy, for you can have him in your own ship, and keep the young dog under your eye. My good wishes to you, and kind regards to your brother. Tell him I wish I could serve him as well, but I can't see my way." "Of course he can't," said the old admiral, quickly. "No; I'm too old and gouty now. But as for you, you dog, why don't you stand on your head, or shout, or something? Here, I am well enough to go up to town after all. Syd and I are going to see about his uniform. The _Sirius_--well, you two have luck at last. Here, hi! you, sir! Put down that confounded birch-broom, and come here." Uncle Tom had caught sight of Barney at the bottom of the lawn sweeping leaves into a heap for his son to lift them between two boards into the waiting barrow. As Barney looked up and saw the admiral signalling from the window, he came across the lawn at a trot, dragging the broom after him. "Drop that broom and salute your officer, you confounded old barnacle!" roared the old gentleman. "Salute, sir, salute: your master's appointed to the smartest frigate in the service." Barney struck an attitude, sent his old cocked hat spinning into the air, and then catching it, tucked it under his arm, and pulled his imaginary forelock over and over again. "Good luck to your honour! I am glad. When would you like me to be ready, sir? Shall I go on first and begin overhauling?" "You, Strake?" said the captain, thoughtfully. "You're not going to leave me behind, sir? No, no, sir; don't say that, sir--don't think it, sir. I'm as strong and active as ever I was, and a deal more tough. Ask him to take me, Master Syd." "Take you, Strake?" said the captain again. "Why, what is to become of my garden?" "Your garden, captain! What do you want with a garden when you're at sea? Salt tack and biscuit, and a few bags o' 'tatoes about all you want aboard ship." The captain shook his head. "It's a long time since you were on active service, Strake." "Active sarvice, captain! Why, I was on active sarvice when the admiral hailed me; and, I tell you, I never felt more fit for work in my life. Course I'd like to be your bo'sun, captain, but don't you stand 'bout that. You take me, and I'll sarve you afore the mast as good and true as if I was warrant officer once more. You've knowed me a lot o' years, Sir Thomas; say a good word for me." "I'll say you're a good fellow, Strake, and a first-class sailor," said the admiral. "For which I thank ye kindly, sir. But you don't say a word for a man, Master Syd. I know I've cut up rough with you, sir, often over plums and chyce pears as I wanted to save for the dessart, but my 'art's been allus right for you, my lad, and never a bit o' sorrow till I see you flying in the master's face and not wantin' to sarve the King. You won't bear malice, sir, and 'atred in yer 'art. Say a good word." "Yes, Barney. Do take him, father." "It is a question of duty and of the man's ability. Look here, Strake, if I say no, it's because I fear that you would not be smart enough at your age. It is not a question of the will to serve." "I should think not, sir. Why, you won't have a man of your crew more willing to sarve you right." "I know that; but the activity and smartness?" "Activity, sir? Why, I'm as light as a feather, sir, and I'd run up the ratlines and away aloft and clap my hand on the main-truck long afore some o' your youngsters." "Well, Strake, I'll take you." "Why--" "Stop a moment. It must be with the understanding that you undertake anything I set you to do, for there may be a good boatswain aboard." "Right, sir; any thing's my work. I'll see about my kit at once." "Syd, you shall go with me, unless you would like to wait for a chance on another ship." "No, father, I'll go with you," cried Syd. "And what about Pan?" "He can come," said the captain. "Now leave me with your uncle, I want to talk to him at once." A complete change seemed to have come over Barney as he made for the open window, not walking as usual, but in a light trot upon his toes, as if he were once more on the deck of a ship; and as soon as he was in the garden and out of sight of the window, he folded his arms and began to evince his delight by breaking into the first few steps of a hornpipe. He was just in the middle of it when Pan came silently up behind with a board in each hand, to stand gazing from Syd to his father and back again in speechless wonderment, and evidently fully believing that the old man had gone mad. All at once Barney was finishing off his dance with a curve round on his heels, but this brought him face to face with his wide-eyed, staring son. The effect was instantaneous. He stopped short in a peculiar attitude, feeling quite abashed at being found so engaged, and Syd could hardly contain his laughter at the way in which the old boatswain got out of his difficulty. "What now, you ugly young swab!" he roared. "Never see a sailor of the ryle navy stretch his legs afore?" "Is that how sailors stretches their legs?" said Pan, slowly. "Yes, it be. Now then, what have you got to say to that?" "You arn't a sailor, father." "What? Hear him, Master Syd? That's just what I am, boy, and you too. We're all on us outward bound; and now you come along, and I'll just show you something with a rope's-end." "Why, I aren't been doing nothing now," cried Pan, drawing back. "Who said you had, you swab! Heave ahead. Stow talking and get that there rope. I'm going to give you your first lesson in knotting and splicing. Ah, you've got something to larn now, my lad. Go and run that there barrow and them tools into the shed. No more gardening. Come on into the yard, Master Syd, and we'll rig up that there big pole, and a yard across it, and I'll show you both how to lay out with your feet in the sturrup. Come on." "But, Master Syd, father isn't going to sea again, is he?" "Yes, Pan, we're all off to join a fine frigate." "And make men on you both," cried Barney. "Lor', it's a wonder to me how I've managed to live this 'long-shore life so long. Come on, my lads. No, no, don't walk like that. Think as you've got a deck under your feet, and run along like this." Barney set the example, and Syd laughed again, for the gardener seemed to have gone back ten years of big life, and trotted along as active as a boy. _ |
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