“Ay, it is.”
“Well, I think he has got into a bit of a row with some of the young monkeys below. Go and stop it at once.”
“That’s Pan-y-mar gone and showed his teeth, Master Syd,” whispered the bo’sun, and he trotted forward, while feeling now that he ought to go and see about his chest, and at the same time wishing that he could go forward and see what was wrong about Pan—but fearing to make some breach of discipline—Sydney once more went below.
Chapter Seventeen.
It was impossible to help thinking about the handsome old dining-room at the Heronry as Sydney sat down to his first meal at the midshipman’s mess, and however willing he might have been to consider that polished mahogany tables and plate were not necessaries, he could not help comparing the food with that to which he had been accustomed.
As luck had it, he found himself seated next to Roylance, who laughed good-humouredly, and said—
“Don’t take any notice of the rough joking, youngster.”
He was not above a year older than Sydney, but he had been two years at sea, and seemed to look down from a height of experience at his companion.