“It’s too bad,” he said to himself; “they must know how horribly strange I feel.”
“Hullo, squire! Who are you?”
Syd turned round to face the speaker, for the words had, as it were, been barked almost into his ear, and he had heard no one approach, for it had seemed to be one of the peculiarities of aboard ship that people passed to and fro and by him without making a sound.
He found himself facing a stern, middle-aged man in uniform, who looked him over at a glance, and Syd flinched again, for the officer smiled slightly, not a pleasant smile, for it seemed as if he were going to bite.
“I am Sydney Belton, sir.”
“Eh? Oh, the captain’s boy. Yes, of course. In full rig, eh? Well, why don’t you go below? You look so strange.”
“Does he mean in uniform?” thought Syd.
“Yes, sir,” he said aloud. “My father has gone down there.”
“Aft, boy, aft; don’t say down there. Well, why don’t you go below? Seen your messmates?”
“I have seen the young officer who came with us in the boat.”