Sir Humphrey unconsciously sighed again, but it was a sigh of relief and a few minutes after Dan brought him a cup of tea, of which he partook, and once more dropped asleep when everything had been done.
“Bit weak,” said the captain softly. “Best thing he can do. Sleep’s a fine thing, and it seems the best thing in the world when you’ve got the watch and your eyelids keep on sticking together and making you feel as if you must break up a couple of sticks to turn into props. Now come and have some breakfast, my lad. I want mine. Eh? what do you say? We’re sailing up?”
“Yes; we’re going fast.”
“Ever since sunrise, my lad, and we’re miles away from where we anchored, and likely to get miles more ahead by night, so that we may hope for better anchorage and better sport than we had yesterday. Hungry?”
“Well, yes,” said Brace. “I feel more at ease about my brother.”
“That’s right,” said the captain, sniffing. “I say! ham smells good. Coffee too. That skinny chap of Briscoe’s makes a splendid steward. You’ll feel in better heart still when you’ve had your breakfast. Sun’s out again.”
“Yes,” said Brace; “I saw it was a bright morning.”
“I didn’t mean that: I meant your sun, squire—the one inside a man which gets clouded over sometimes, and means dumps till it comes out again and lights him up. Sun’s in: a man can’t eat. Sun’s out: he can. See?”
“Yes,” said Brace, laughing; “I think I shall have an appetite to-day.”
The next minute he was proving his words; but his efforts did not bring him abreast of the captain and the others, though the captain said afterwards in confidence: