He started from his seat, for the handle of the door rattled, and his father and uncle entered the library.
“Oh, you’re here, sir!” cried Captain Belton. “That’s right. Your uncle and I have been talking about you.”
“Laying down your lines, Syd, so as to turn you out a smart craft.”
“Yes,” said Captain Belton, merrily. “We’ve settled about your hull, Syd; and to-morrow morning we’re going to take you up to town, and if all turns out right—”
“Oh, that’s all right,” said Sir Thomas. “Dashleigh would do anything for me.”
“If his complement is not made up.”
“And if it is. Hang it, Harry; you can always squeeze another boy into a seventy-gun ship.”
“Well, I suppose it will be all right,” said the captain; “and if it is we’ll get you rigged.”
“Yes, and if you’ll be a good lad, and try and learn your profession, I’ll make you a present of your outfit, Syd. The best that can be had,” said Sir Thomas.
“And I’d give you a gold watch,” said the captain, “only you’d lose it, or get it stolen or broken before you had been to sea a month. There, my boy, no objections. It’s all settled for you, and we want to see you a post-captain before we go into the locker.”