“Not quite done, sir,” he said. “I shall put ’em in the oven again for half an hour just before you want ’em. It wouldn’t have done to leave ’em waiting. Things soon turn in this hot country.”
“We’re going ashore again as soon as you’re ready.”
“That’ll be in ten minutes, then, my lad.”
“You’ll take a stronger fishing-line this time?”
“Don’t you be feared about that,” said the old fellow, nodding his head sideways; “but come along o’ me on deck. I’ve saved this here on purpose for you to see.”
“Pah! How nasty!” cried the boy, as Bostock brought forward an iron bucket containing the internal parts of the pigeons.
“Don’t look very nice, but I thought I’d save it till you come.”
“What for?”
“Come and see. I’m just going to chuck it overboard and wash out the bucket.”
Carey grasped the man’s reason directly, and they went on deck to the side where the water was deepest.