2. CHAPTER II
An official letter, with the Admiralty seal, informed
me that I was expected to join H. M. ship Belcher,
Captain Boltrope, at Portsmouth, without delay. In
a few days I presented myself to a tall, stern-visaged
man, who was slowly pacing the leeward side of the
quarter-deck. As I touched my hat he eyed me
sternly:
“So ho! Another young suckling. The service
is going to the devil. Nothing but babes in the
cockpit and grannies in the board. Boatswain's
mate, pass the word for Mr. Cheek!”
Mr. Cheek, the steward, appeared and touched his
hat. “Introduce Mr. Breezy to the young gentlemen.
Stop! Where's Mr. Swizzle?”
“At the masthead, sir.”
“Where's Mr. Lankey?”
“At the masthead, sir.”
“Mr. Briggs?”
“Masthead, too, sir.”
“And the rest of the young gentlemen?” roared
the enraged officer.
“All masthead, sir.”
“Ah!” said Captain Boltrope, as he smiled grimly,
“under the circumstances, Mr. Breezy, you had better
go to the masthead too.”
