Syd Belton | Page 9

town and
see Dashleigh at once. I'll go with you."
"Very well. And he can be measured for his kit at the same time, eh?"
"Of course. Mind the tailor makes his clothes big enough, for as soon
as he gets to sea he'll grow like a twig."
Syd sat stirring his coffee, and taking great bites out of his bread and
butter, as the words of Pan came back to him--"If he does I shall run
away, so there!"

CHAPTER THREE.
There was something tempting about that idea of being measured for a
uniform, though Syd declared to himself he hated it. All the same,
though, he went down the garden to where Barney was digging that
morning, and after a little beating about the bush, asked him a question
he could have answered himself, from familiarity with his father's and
uncle's garb.
"I say, Barney, what's a captain's uniform like?"
"Uniform, my lad?" said the old boatswain, seizing the opportunity to
rest his foot on his spade, and began rubbing the small of his back, or
rather what is so called, for Barney had no small to his back, being
square-shaped like a short log. "Well, it's bloo coat, and white weskutt
and breeches, and gold lace and cocked hat, and two gold swabs on the
shoulders."
"And what's a lieutenant's like?"
"Oh, pooty much the same, lad, only he's on'y got one swab on 'stead o'
two. But what's the good o' your asking?--you've seen 'em often enough
in Southbayton."
"Oh, but I never took any notice. What's a midshipman's like?"
"Bloo, my lad, and a bit o' white on the collar."
"And a cocked hat?"
"Oh yes, a cocked hat--a small one, you know."
"And a sword, Barney?"
"Well, as to a sword, lad," said the old sailor, wiping a brown corner of
his mouth; "it arn't right to call such a tooth-pick of a thing a sword.
Sort of a young sword as you may say, on'y it never grows no bigger,
and him as wears it does. Dirks, they calls 'em, middies' dirks."

"A uniform and a sword," said Sydney to himself. "A blue uniform
with white on the collar, and a cocked hat and a sword!"
It was very tempting, and the boy went on down by the side of the lake,
beyond which were the great trees, with the ragged nests of the tall
birds which gave the name to the captain's residence, where he had
settled to end his days well in view of the sea.
Here where the water was smooth as glass Sydney stood leaning over,
holding on by a bough, and gazing at his foreshortened image, as in
imagination he dressed himself in the blue uniform, buckled on his dirk,
and put on his cocked hat.
It was very tempting, but disinclination mastered vanity, and he turned
away to go back toward the house.
"I wonder whether Pan means it," he said to himself. "Suppose we went
together to seek our fortunes; he could be my servant, and father and
Uncle Tom would forgive me if I came back rich."
But somehow in a misty way as he walked up to the back of the house,
half thinking that he would sound the boy, it hardly seemed to be the
way to seek a fortune to start off with a servant.
He had nearly reached the yard when a door was thrown open, and the
object of his search rushed out, followed by a shower of words and
shoes, which latter came pattering out into the yard as a shrill voice
cried--
"A nasty, lazy, good-for-nothing young scamp--always playing with
that dog instead of doing your work. Not half clean--not fit to be seen."
Syd drew back, thinking to himself that Pan could not be much happier
than he was himself with the red-faced cook, who ruled over all the
servants, to play tyrant to the boy as well.
"Now what could two lads do if they went right away?" mused Syd.
"We couldn't go abroad without going to sea. I don't think I want to be

a soldier, and we're not big enough if I did. I know--we'd go to London.
People seek their fortunes there."
He seated himself beneath the walnut tree to think it out, but somehow
the idea of running away did not seem bright. It was less than a
hundred miles to London by the coach-road, and if they walked all the
way it did not seem likely that they would have any adventures.
Syd felt in despair, for life seemed as if it must be a terribly dull place
without adventures.
He thought he would not run away for two reasons. One that it would
look cowardly; the other that it did not look tempting.