Sydney frowned, and cracked a walnut till the shell and nut were all crushed together.
“And so you are to make up your mind to go to sea?”
“Yes,” said the admiral, emphatically.
“Certainly,” said Captain Belton; and, as soon after the conversation turned into political matters, Sydney quietly left his chair, strolled to the window, and stood gazing out at the estuary upon which the captain’s house looked down.
It was a glorious view. The long stretch of water was dappled with orange and gold; and here and there the great men-of-war were lying at anchor, some waiting their commanders; others, whose sea days were past, waiting patiently for their end, sent along dark shadows behind them. Here and there fishing-boats with tawny sails were putting out to sea for the night’s fishing; and as Sydney’s eyes wandered, a frown settled upon his forehead, and he stepped out through the open window into the garden.
“Bother the old sea!” he said, petulantly. “It’s always sea, sea, sea, from morning till night. I don’t want to go, and I won’t.”
As he spoke he passed under an apple tree, one of whose fruit, missed in the gathering a month before, had dropped, and picking it up, the boy relieved his feelings by throwing it with all his might across the garden.
The effect was as sudden as that produced by his kick; for there was a shout and sound of feet rapidly approaching, and a red-faced boy of about his own age came into
sight, hatless and breathless, panting, wild-eyed, and with fists clenched ready for assault.