He was just in the middle of it when Pan came silently up behind with a
board in each hand, to stand gazing from Syd to his father and back
again in speechless wonderment, and evidently fully believing that the
old man had gone mad.

All at once Barney was finishing off his dance with a curve round on his
heels, but this brought him face to face with his wide-eyed, staring
son.

The effect was instantaneous. He stopped short in a peculiar attitude,
feeling quite abashed at being found so engaged, and Syd could hardly
contain his laughter at the way in which the old boatswain got out of
his difficulty.

"What now, you ugly young swab!" he roared. "Never see a sailor of the
ryle navy stretch his legs afore?"

"Is that how sailors stretches their legs?" said Pan, slowly.

"Yes, it be. Now then, what have you got to say to that?"

"You arn't a sailor, father."

"What? Hear him, Master Syd? That's just what I am, boy, and you too.
We're all on us outward bound; and now you come along, and I'll just
show you something with a rope's-end."

"Why, I aren't been doing nothing now," cried Pan, drawing back.

"Who said you had, you swab! Heave ahead. Stow talking and get that
there rope. I'm going to give you your first lesson in knotting and
splicing. Ah, you've got something to larn now, my lad. Go and run
that there barrow and them tools into the shed. No more gardening.
Come on into the yard, Master Syd, and we'll rig up that there big pole,
and a yard across it, and I'll show you both how to lay out with your
feet in the sturrup. Come on."

"But, Master Syd, father isn't going to sea again, is he?"

"Yes, Pan, we're all off to join a fine frigate."

"And make men on you both," cried Barney. "Lor', it's a wonder to me
how I've managed to live this 'long-shore life so long. Come on, my
lads. No, no, don't walk like that. Think as you've got a deck under
your feet, and run along like this."

Barney set the example, and Syd laughed again, for the gardener seemed
to have gone back ten years of big life, and trotted along as active as
a boy.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

"Have they come, Syd, lad?" said the admiral, as the boy walked into the
private room of the Red Lion, Shoreport, where the old man had taken up
his quarters for the past fortnight, and had spent his time down at the
docks, where the _Sirius_ was being overhauled in her rigging, and was
getting in her stores and ammunition ready for h