“No; he seemed as if he wouldn’t answer me.”
“Didn’t say downright as you shouldn’t go?”
“No.”
“Well, sir, you’re a young gent, and the capen’s son, and course I wouldn’t tell yer to do nothin’ wrong; but in the old days when we was goin’ to cut out ships from under the guns of a fort, or to land and upset some town, the young gents used to smuggle theirselves into the boat and get down among the men’s legs, and the skipper and the luff wouldn’t see ’em.”
“Wouldn’t see them—why?”
“’Cause bein’ very young gents they wouldn’t send ’em or give ’em leave to go ’cause o’ the danger, but they liked ’em to go all the same, ’cause it showed they’d got sperret in ’em.”
“Barney!” whispered Syd, looking at the bo’sun searchingly.
“No, sir; I won’t say go,” was whispered back. “You can’t ’spect it. But—”
Syd’s eyes sparkled and he gave a cautious look round to see that the captain was on the quarter-deck, and that the first lieutenant had his back to him and was energetically insisting upon something to Roylance.
The next moment Syd was over the side, and down amongst the crew.