“Wait a bit, sir, wait a bit,” said the bronzed old fellow. “’Tain’t fault o’ gover’ment, but fault o’ natur’. Soon as you and Mr Belton here grows big enough you’ll be lufftenants, and then captains; and if that swab of a boy of mine minds his eye he’ll be a bo’sun.”
“You’ll lay up now, I suppose?” said Roylance.
“Me, sir? me lay up?” cried the boatswain, indignantly. “Not the man. No, sir, I hope to sail yet with young Capen Belton when the old capen’s a admiral, as he’s sure to be afore long.”
“Seems a long time to wait for promotion,” said Syd.
“Awful, sir, to a young gent who has only been two years at sea. But—whish, sir! Look!”
Syd, who was leaning over the side with Roylance, gazing at the town, started with pleasure, for in the stern-sheets of the barge, which was coming back from shore with the captain, who was returning to take leave of his officers before quitting the Sirius for good, was the grey-whiskered, florid face of Admiral Belton.
He came on board, bowing to the salutes given him, and then looking round sharply, he exclaimed—
“Now then, where’s that doctor?”
“Here, uncle,” cried Syd, merrily.
“Why! Well! Hang the boy, I shouldn’t have known you. You have grown! Shake hands, you dog! I’m proud of you. I know all about it. I say,” he said with a chuckle, “don’t want to be a doctor now, eh?”