“Never mind the water, Mr Goodall, I am pretty well aerated already; but what with the sea air and the bright prospects before us, I can do some of that tempting-looking tongue and the corned beef that Trigger has produced.”
“They were thoughtfully provided by Squire Dove,” said the aeronaut.
“Then here’s good luck to him and to us all, and may we collar Croft and recover the squire’s stolen property.”
“We will gladly join in that sentiment,” said Mr Goodall, “and I will either keep Warner company by feeding, or abstain like Tom Trigger.”
“Don’t talk about my abstaining, sir, for it is as much as ever I can do to keep my hands off these good things, that is, until I’m told to start.”
“Let us all hands go ahead then, steward, for I have often read that Englishmen can fight and work quite as well on a full as an empty stomach, and I hope that the raised pie and the tongue will not dim our sight, even if they diminish our hunger.”
“I can see further now, sir, than I could half an hour back,” cried Warner, as he looked towards Tom to have his glass replenished.
“I know you can see into your tumbler,” said Trigger, “and that it is empty.”
“Cease firing your jokes, you two, and lend me your glass, Warner,” cried Harry Goodall, as he shaded his eyes with one hand. “Be serious now, my lads, for I can see the French coast, and a mist is rising behind it.”
“The wind over the land seems very variable,” said Trigger. “Look at the smoke from those steamers, Mr Goodall.”