“No, boy, you do not; you look as if you had got on your uniform for the first time. We’re going out now, so look as if you hadn’t got it on for the first time. Hold up your head, cock your hat, and if you look at people, don’t look as if you were wondering what they thought of you, but as if you were taking his weight. See?”
“Yes, uncle, I think I do. But must I go like this?”
“Confound you, sir!” growled the old man. “Why do you talk like that?”
“Because I look absurd.”
“Oh, that’s it, is it? Then look here, Syd, I’ll prove that you don’t.”
“If you can prove that, uncle, I shall never mind wearing a uniform again.”
“Then you need not mind, boy, for if you looked absurd I wouldn’t be seen with you. Now then, hold up your head, and remember you are a king’s officer. March!”
The old man gave his cane a thump, cocked his own hat, and stamped along by the side of his nephew. Pan, who was outside waiting for his father’s return, staring wide-eyed at Sydney’s uniform, and then following behind with Barney, wishing he was allowed to wear a little gilded sword like that.
In this way they walked down to the boat, which lay a short distance from the landing-place, with a handsome boy in middy’s uniform leaning back in the stern-sheets, and keeping strict watch on his men to keep them from yielding to the attraction of one of the public-houses, stronger than that of duty.
Barney stepped forward and hailed the boat, which was quickly rowed alongside, the coxswain holding on as the admiral stepped in, followed by his nephew, who found himself directly after beside the good-looking, dark-complexioned middy, who took the helm, and gave the order to give way. The oars fell with a splash, and Sydney felt that he was at last afloat and on his way to join the frigate.