Billy_ taking us
in tow, proceeded to Spithead, where we anchored in eleven fathoms,
letting out some six shackles of cable, so that we could swing
comfortably with the tide as it flowed in and out of the roadstead.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

A LITTLE SURPRISE.

"I suppose," said I, after we had cast anchor, to Larkyns, who had
kindly noticed me the first day I came aboard and had been very friendly
with me since, patronising me in the way the elder boys of the sixth
form sometimes do the younger fellows at school, "we'll sail to-morrow,
eh?"

"Sail to-morrow? Your grandmother!" he answered with his usual grin. I
believe that chap would have grinned if you had told him his father was
dead, for he looked on everything from a humorous point of view and
could not help laughing even when the captain spoke to him, which often
got him in for an extra mast-heading. "Why, we haven't got in our lower
deck guns yet, booby, let alone our powder and ammunition; besides all
sorts of stores we could not ship in harbour!"

"Oh!" I exclaimed, somewhat crestfallen at his "snub", "I didn't think
of that."

"I suppose not," replied he, mimicking me, "but you have a good deal to
learn yet, let me tell you. Hullo, though, Master Squaretoes, what do
you mean by coming on the quarter-deck with nails in your boots? You'll
have the first lieutenant after you, my joker, if he notices it, and
there'll be the dickens to pay, I can tell you!"

"What do you mean?" I retorted indignantly. "I have not got any nails
in my boots at all."

"Haven't you, young shaver?" said he, grinning again and looking down
with mock pity at the pumps I wore, which were guiltless of even the
smallest tack, being all sewn, as I held up the soles for his
inspection. "Then, all I can say is I'm sorry for you! I really didn't
think you were deformed--and such a young and promising chap, too!"

I got alarmed at this.

"Deformed!" I repeated. "What do you mean?"

"Why, if you haven't any nails in your boots, or shoes--it doesn't
matter which, but we'll say boots for argument's sake," said my
tormentor quizzingly--"it follows, naturally and logically, that you
have none on your toes! In which case, my poor young friend, you must
be suffering from a malformation of the feet; or, in other words, you
are deformed, according to Euclid, _quid demonstrandum est_, twiggy
vous?"

"Oh, yes, I see," said I, feeling rather nettled, I confess, at his thus
taking a