“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?”