“Why, what did I say?” protested the man.
“That our skipper was a coward.”
“That I didn’t. Never said such a word.”
“But you and lots more have said what meant it, and my advice is this here—don’t do it again, unless you want your back scratched by the bo’sun’s mates.”
Sydney felt better after that, and as the days glided by the idle chatter grew less.
It was all wonderfully new to the boy, and sometimes, when the men were allowed to catch a shark, or try to harpoon dolphins, or albicore, beautiful mackerel-like fish, with the pronged implement they called the grains, he found himself wondering why he had objected to go to sea.
Then as his first nervousness wore off, and, with the rapidity common to a fresh young mind, he acquired the ordinary knowledge of his duty, he was always to the front in little bits of routine such as fell to the lot of the middies. So prominent was he in these matters, that one day, after some hours of busy training, Roylance came to him.
“First luff wants to speak to you, Belton,” he said.
Sydney flushed, and then the colour faded.
“What have I been doing?” he said, hastily.