Before going to sea, of course, Creggan had to put in time on board the Britannia, and after that to be further examined. He was a great favourite with the other cadets, and a noisy, joyous lot they were, brimful of fun, commingled with a modicum of mischief.
At long last he was appointed to a small ship, and this was an ironclad too. He didn't like her. This wasn't his idea of a ship. She lay at Sheerness; and he didn't like Sheerness either, and I never knew anyone who did.
But the Rattler was only a gunboat, and bound for the African shores.
Now Creggan was a brave lad, so he took a step that few boys would have dared to take. He went to visit Captain, or rather Commander Jeffries at his hotel. He found that gallant gentleman lingering over dessert. A very tall and handsome man, with a jolly, smiling face, but exceedingly stout.
"Well, my lad," he said, "come in and bring yourself to anchor. You're one of the Rattler's middies, aren't you?"
"WELL, MY LAD, YOU'RE ONE OF THE 'RATTLER'S' MIDDIES, AREN'T YOU?"
"Yes, sir."
"Have a glass of wine, my lad. No? Better without. But what can I do for you?"