p's barber and have a shave before we go in."

"No, thank you," said Syd, laughing, "I don't shave."

"Remarkable," said Roylance.

"Don't banter, Roy," cried Terry. "The young gentleman is strange, and
you take advantage, and begin to be funny. Don't you take any notice of
him. By the way though, I didn't introduce you. This is Mr William
Roylance, Esquire. Father's not a captain, but a bishop, priest, or
deacon, or something of that kind. Very good young man, but don't you
lend him money! I say, see that door?"

"Yes," said Sydney, looking at a dimly-seen opening barely lit by a
smoky lanthorn.

"Thought I'd show you. Hot water baths in there if you ever wash."

"Ever wash?" said Syd, wonderingly.

"Yes. We do here--a little--when there is any water. Rather particular
on board a frigate. Here we are."

He led the way to where in a dimly-lit hole, so it seemed to Sydney,
about half a dozen youths were seated beneath a swinging lanthorn busily
engaged in some game, which consisted in driving a penny-piece along a
dirty wooden table, scoured with lines and spotted with blackened drops
of tallow.

The coming, as it seemed, of a visitor, in all the neatness and show of
a spick and span new uniform, caused a cessation of the game and its
accompanying noise; but before a word was spoken, Sydney had taken in at
a glance the dingy aspect of the place, and had time to consider whether
this was the midshipmen's berth.

"Here you are, gentlemen," shouted Terry. "Your new messmate: the boy
with a belt on."

"Let him take it off then," cried a voice. "Come on, youngster, here's
room. Got any money?"

Syd thought of his new uniform and felt disposed to shrink, but he did
not hesitate. He had an idea that if he was to share the mess of the
lads about him, the sooner he was on friendly terms the better, so he
nodded and went forward; but his pace was increased by a sudden thrust
from behind, which sent him against the end of the table, and his hat
flying to the other side.

"Shame! shame!" cried Terry, loudly, and there was a roar of laughter.
"Look here, Roy, I won't have it; it's too bad. Not hurt, are you,
Belton?"

"No," said Syd, turning and looking him full in the face; "only a little
to find you should think me such a fool as not to know you pushed me."

"I? Come, young fellow, you'll have to learn manners."

He moved threateningly toward Syd, but the latter did not heed him, for
his attent