ring each by the shoulder held
them apart.

"Now then," he growled, "what's this here?"

"Pan hit me, and I'm dressing him down," panted Sydney. "Here, let go,
Barney."

"Master Syd hit me first, father," panted the red-faced boy.

"Howld your tongue, warmint, will you," said the man in a deep growl.
"Want to have me chucked overboard, and lose my bit o' pension. You're
allus a-going at your pastors and masters."

"Hit me first," remonstrated the boy, as the new-comer gave him a shake.

"Well, what o' that, you ungrateful young porpuss! Hasn't the cap'n hit
me lots o' times and chucked things at me? You never see me flyin' in
his face."

"Chucked a big apple at me first," cried the boy in an ill-used tone.

"Sarve you right too. Has he hurt you much, Master Sydney?"

"No, Barney; not a bit. There, I was wrong. I didn't know he was there
when I threw the apple. I only did it because I felt vicious."

"Hear that, you young sarpint?" cried the square-shouldered man.

"Yes, father."

"Then just you recollect. If the young skipper feels wicious, he's a
right to chuck apples. Why, it's rank mutiny hitting him again."

"Hit me first," grumbled the boy.

"Ay, and I'll hit you first. Why, if I'd been board ship again, instead
of being a pensioner and keeping this here garden in order for the
skipper, I should have put my pipe to my mouth, and--What say, Master
Syd?"

"Don't say any more about it. I'd no business to hit Pan, and I'm sorry
I did now."

"Well, sir, I don't know 'bout not having no business, 'cause you see
you're the skipper's son, and nothing does a boy so much good as a
leathering; but if you're sorry for it, there's an end on it.
Pan-a-mar, my lad, beg Master Sydney's pardon."

"He hit me first," grumbled the boy.

"Do you want me to give you a good rope's-ending, my sonny?" growled the
man; "'cause if you do, just you say that 'ere agen."

The red-faced boy uttered a smothered growl, and was silent.

"Too young to understand discipline yet, Master Sydney," said the man.
"And so you felt wicious, did you? What about?"

"They've been at me again about going to sea, Barney."

"And you don't want to go, my lad?"

"No; and I won't go."

"Hear that, Pan, my lad?"

The boy nodded and drew down the corner of his lips, with the effect
that Sydney made a threatening gesture.

"No, I'm not afraid, Pan," he cried fiercely; "but I don't want to go,
and I won't."

The broad-sho