, 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 ashore 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."

"Am I to go ashore with uncle, father?" said Sydney.

"Hush, my boy, once for all," said Captain Belton. "You are a junior
officer now; I am your captain. We must keep our home life for home.
No, Mr Belton, you will not go ashore again. You have joined your
ship, and your chest will be brought on board by the boatswain."

"Is Barney going to be a boatswain, sir?" cried Sydney, in his
eagerness.

Captain Belton gave him a look which said plainly enough, "Remember that
I am your captain, sir!"

And feeling abashed, the boy looked in another direction, to see that
Barney was winking and screwing up his face in the most wonderful way to
convey certain information of the fact that in his inexperience Sydney
had not read in his uniform.

"There, good-bye, Syd," said the old admiral, after a few minutes' more
conversation with the captain, during which time the boat's crew had
been piped away, and Terry had hurried on deck to take charge once more.
Then there was a warm grasp of the hand as the old man leaned toward
him, his words seeming the more impressive after what had just occurred.

"God bless you, my lad!" he whispered. "You'll get some hard knocks;
perhaps it'll come to a fight among your messmates, but if it does,
don't have your comb cut. Recollect you're a Belton, and never strike
your colours. Always be a gentleman, Syd, and n