“Yes, sir.”
“And you have rated him as an apprentice?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very well,” he remarked, and then turned to me, saying to my astonishment:
“There you are, Master Dunn, duly shipped on His Majesty’s frigate, St. George, and we hope to hear good things of you.” Then to the midshipman, who had shown me to the cabin and who had all this time been waiting, he said: “Take him forward, Midshipman Seymour, and see that he is furnished with the usual outfit.”
By this time I had recovered sufficiently from my astonishment to protest:
“But, sir, I did not come here to ship on the frigate. I came simply as Captain Weston’s messenger.”
A look of surprise passed over the face of the captain as he glanced again at the missive I had brought.
“You admit you are Arthur Dunn,” he then said, “and there can be no mistake. Yesterday Captain Weston made full arrangements to place you as an apprentice on board of this frigate. This note says he has sent you here for that purpose. We will have no further words about it. Master Seymour, take him forward as I have directed.”
I knew there was no appeal from this decision, and sick at heart at this new and dastardly trick of my enemy, I turned and followed my conductor to the deck.