time of life lads do not know what is best for them, so it is
the duty of their fathers to decide."

"Is it, father?"

"Of course it is, sir," growled the admiral, and Doctor Liss wrinkled up
his forehead and looked attentively on.

"Now look here, sir. Your uncle has just heard an old friend of his,
Captain Dashleigh--"

"Known him from a boy," said the admiral.

"Has been appointed to the _Juno_, one of our finest three-deckers, and
he is going to ask him to take you as one of his midshipmen."

"Uncle Tom always said that a boy should commence life either in a sloop
of war or a smart frigate," said Syd, sharply.

"If there's one handy," growled the admiral. "_Juno's_ a ship to be
proud of."

"So, thank your uncle for his promise to exert his interest, and let's
have no more nonsense."

"But I want to be a doctor, father," said Syd, looking hard at the
visitor.

_Crash_!

The glasses danced as the admiral brought his hand down heavily.

"No, no, Tom," cried the captain, testily; "I can manage the helm."

"But, Doctor Liss!" said the boy, appealingly.

"Don't appeal to me, my boy," said the doctor, gravely. "You know your
father's and your uncle's wish. It is your duty to obey."

"Oh!" ejaculated Sydney, in a tone of voice which seemed to say, "I did
think you would side with me."

The doctor took a pinch of snuff.

"You see, Syd," continued the captain, "your uncle has no son, and I
have only one to keep up the honour of our family. You will join your
ship with the best of prospects, and I hope you will be a credit to us
both."

Sydney said nothing, but took another walnut, and cracked it viciously,
as if it was the head of a savage enemy.

That night he lay tumbling and unable to sleep, his brow knit and his
teeth set, feeling as obstinate as a boy can feel who has not been
allowed to have his own way.

CHAPTER TWO.

The next morning Sydney Belton rose in excellent time, but not from a
desire to keep good hours. He could not sleep well, so he dressed and
went out, to find it was only on the stroke of six.

As he reached the garden, there was his self-constituted enemy
stretching out before him, far as eye could reach, and sparkling
gloriously in the morning sunshine.

"Bother the sea!" muttered the boy, scowling. "Wish it was all dry
land."

"What cheer, lad! Mornin', mornin'. Don't she look lovely, eh?"

"Morning, Barney," said the boy, turning to see that the old boatsw