Chapter 17

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_ CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

It was impossible to help thinking about the handsome old dining-room at the Heronry as Sydney sat down to his first meal at the midshipman's mess, and however willing he might have been to consider that polished mahogany tables and plate were not necessaries, he could not help comparing the food with that to which he had been accustomed.

As luck had it, he found himself seated next to Roylance, who laughed good-humouredly, and said--

"Don't take any notice of the rough joking, youngster."

He was not above a year older than Sydney, but he had been two years at sea, and seemed to look down from a height of experience at his companion.

"I am not going to," said Sydney, looking up frankly to the other's handsome face.

"That's right. Terry's cock of the walk here, and shows off a good deal. We all give in to him, so be civil too, and it will save a row. The luff doesn't like us to quarrel."

"He told me not to," said Syd.

"Then I wouldn't. If Terry gives you a punch on the head, take it, and never mind."

Syd was silent.

"Got your chest, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"Everything's new, awkward, and fresh to you now, but you'll soon get used to it. You'll put on your undress uniform to-morrow, of course. I'll tell you anything you want to know. Nobody told me when I came on board, and I had a hard time of it."

"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 coarseness of the provisions, which were eked out with odds and ends brought by the middies from the shore, 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 cock 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 fashion, 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 ships.

Then after coming to the conclusion that he rather liked Roylance, but that he should never care for life aboard ship, 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 passed 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 tittering 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 tittering 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 shilling 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.

"Look here, youngsters, I want to go to sleep, and I'll come and cut down the next fellow who makes a row."

"Yah!"

"Boo!"

"Daren't!"

These ejaculations came tauntingly from different parts, but in smothered tones, which indicated that the voices were disguised, and after a few more threats from Roylance, there was perfect quiet once more in the berth.

"So I'm not to sleep," thought Sydney, "but keep guard and wait for whoever it was that cut the cords of my hammock. A nasty cowardly trick."

The fall and its following had so thoroughly roused up the sufferer that he felt not the slightest inclination to sleep, and feeling that he could easily keep awake and hear any one approach, he lay listening to the hard breathing on both sides till all grew more and more subdued; and though it was pitch dark the surroundings grew misty and strange, and Syd lay listening to a strange sound which made him turn his head in the direction of the door, towards where he could see a sturdily-built young fellow down on his hands and knees, crawling in as easily as a dog. Now he peered to one side, now to the other. Then he ran on all fours under the hammocks, which seemed to stand out quite clearly with their occupants therein. Then his head appeared, and it seemed, though he could not make out the face, that it was Terry. But the head disappeared again, and as Syd watched he felt that his hammock was the object in view, and in his dread he started to find that all was intensely dark and that he had been dreaming all this.

It was very hot, and there was heavy breathing all around, but not another sound, so feeling once more that it would be impossible to sleep, and that he might as well be on guard, Syd kept his vigil for quite five minutes, and then, as was perfectly natural, went off fast asleep again, to lie until it seemed to him that there was a crash of thunder, and then all was blank.

"Here, hi! Sentry! Bring a lantern. It's a mean, cowardly act, and I'll complain to the first lieutenant."

The roar of laughter which had been going on, mingled with comments, ceased at this, and was succeeded by a low buzzing sound, which seemed to Syd to be close to his ears as he saw a dim light, felt horribly sleepy, and as if his head ached violently.

"It's too bad. The other was only a game. The poor fellow's head's cut and bleeding, and whoever did this is a mean-spirited coward, and no gentleman."

"Shall I go and rouse up the doctor, sir?"

"No; we'll bind it up, and keep it all quiet. There'd be no end of trouble if the captain knew. I only wish I knew who did it, cutting a fellow down by the head like this."

Syd tried to speak, but he was like one in a dream.

"If I knew who it was--" said Roylance.

"What would you do?" said a voice, which Syd seemed to recognise; "go and tell his daddy?"

"No; I'd tell him he was a mean-spirited, cowardly hound," said Roylance, "and not fit for the society of gentlemen."

"Hark at the bishop's boy, I dare say he did it himself."

"Just the sort of thing I should do!" replied Roylance, sharply. "More likely one of Mike Terry's brutal tricks."

"Oh, very well, Master Roy. You and I can talk that over another time. So you mean to say I did it?"

Roylance did not answer, and just then Sydney recovered his voice, the faintness passing away like a cloud. "Was it he?" whispered the boy. "I'm not sure," whispered Roylance. "Don't quarrel because of me. Does my head bleed now?"

"No; I've tied my handkerchief tightly round it. Lie still, you'll be better soon.--Here, marine, knot up that hammock again. You shan't be cut down again, for I'll keep watch."

"There's nothing the matter," said Terry, from the other end of the berth; "it's only one of Miss Roylance's fads. Currying favour with the skipper by making a pet monkey of his boy."

Roylance ground his teeth, and Syd lay very quiet listening, and watching the marine as he knotted together the broken lines, helping him in afterwards, and going away with the lantern.

"Don't wait," whispered Syd; "it's very good of you, but I'm not hurt much. They cut the ropes up by my head, didn't they?"

"Yes; the cowards! But I don't think they'll touch you again now. Shall I stop?"

"No; don't, please. I may as well take my chance."

"Very well," said Roylance, and he went back to his own hammock amongst the remarks and laughs of those who, from liking or dread, had made themselves the parasites of the leader of the mess. _

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