Chapter Fifteen.
“Have they come, Syd, lad?” said the admiral, as the boy walked into the private room of the Red Lion, Shoreport, where the old man had taken up his quarters for the past fortnight, and had spent his time down at the docks, where the Sirius was being overhauled in her rigging, and was getting in her stores and ammunition ready for her start to the West Indian station in another week’s time.
The coach had not long come in, and on hearing the horn the old sailor, with a twinkle in his eye, had sent the lad to do exactly what he wanted, but would have shrunk from for fear of seeming particular.
“Yes, uncle,” he said quietly, “a box has come.”
“Well, well, where is it?”
“I told him to put it in my bedroom.”
“Well, why don’t you go and open it, and see if your outfit is all right?”
“Oh, there’s plenty of time, uncle,” said Syd, with assumed carelessness.