“I’m not going to row all those miles against tide, I can tell you.”
“Very well. We shall have to wait.”
“I can’t wait. I want my dinner.”
“It is the Grenadier!” cried Scood, after a long look. “I can see her red funnel.”
“You can’t at this distance.”
“Yes, I can. The sun’s shining on it; and there’s the wind coming.”
“How do you know?”
“Look at the smoke. We shall get home by six.”
“But I’m hungry now. I shall have to shoot something to eat. I say, Scood, why shouldn’t I shoot you?”
“Don’t know,” said Scoodrach, grinning.