"No; hardly at all."

"Then we'll go up to town to-morrow."

"What for, Tom?" said the captain. "You'll do no better than I did."

"I'm not going to try, Harry," said the old gentleman, fiercely.

"Then why go? You are comfortable here."

"I'm going up to horsewhip that contemptible little scoundrel Dashleigh,
and fight him afterwards, though he's hardly gentleman enough."

"Nonsense, Tom!"

"Nonsense? Why I made that fellow--and pretty waste of time too! And
now he's in command of a seventy-four, and you may go begging for a word
to get your boy into the midshipmen's berth."

Uncle Tom did not go up to town to horsewhip or fight.

"Never mind," he said, "he's sure to run his ship on the rocks, or get
thrashed--a scoundrel! Here, Syd, take my advice."

"What is it, uncle?"

"Never do any one a kind action as long as you live."

"You don't mean it, uncle."

"What, sir? No, I don't: you're right."

A week passed, during which Barney suggested that the proper thing for
Captain Belton to do was to purchase some well-built merchant schooner,
and fit her out as a privateer.

"I could soon get together as smart a crew as you'd care to have, and
then there'd be a chance for your son to get to be a leefftenant 'fore
you knew where you were."

But Captain Belton only laughed, and matters at the Heronry remained as
they were, till one day with the other letters there came one that was
big and official, and its effect upon the two old officers was striking.

"From the Admiralty, Tom," said the captain, as he glanced at the great
seal, and then began to take out his knife to slit open the fold.

"I can see that," said the admiral. "It's from Claudene. Syd, lad,
you're in luck. He has got you appointed to a ship, after all."

"Bless my soul!" cried the captain, dropping the great missive on the
table.

"What is it, my lad?--what is it?" cried Sir Thomas.

"Read--read," cried Captain Belton, huskily--"it's too good to believe."

Sir Thomas snatched up the official letter, cast his eyes over it, and
then, forgetting his gout, caught hold of Syd's hands and began to caper
about the room like a maniac.

"Hurrah! Bravo, Harry, my lad. I've often grumbled; but I avow it--I
am past service, gouty as I am; but you were never more seaworthy."

"Uncle, why don't you speak?" cried Sydney, excitedly. "Has father got
a ship?"

"Got a ship, my lad? He's appointed to one of the smartest in the
navy--t