The mariner nodded his head. "That's part of his Majesty's Channel Squadron, my lad. Be you thinkin' of shippin' before the mast?"
"Perhaps. Could you tell me where to find an officer of the fleet? Are there any still ashore?"
The sailor glanced at a landing-stage near by. "Aye, there's an officer's gig, and there's the very man you're lookin' for. The one in the cocked hat with the gold trimmin' yonder."
"Thank you," said the boy, and started on the run for the landing-stage, completely forgetting how tired his legs had been.
The man in the cocked hat found himself a moment later facing a small delicate-looking boy, who was asking which vessel was the Raisonnable.
He looked the boy over and then pointed out the frigate which bore that name. "What do you want with her?" he asked, amused at the eagerness with which the boy looked through the sea of masts at the ship he sought.
"My uncle's her commander, and I'm to serve on her," came the answer. "How can I get on board?"
"I'll look after that," said the young lieutenant. "She's my ship too." Again his eyes ran over the small, slender figure before him. "What's your name?" he asked.
"Horatio Nelson, sir."
"Well, Nelson, you look starved, and more like a drowned rat than a midshipman. How long since you had a square meal?"