Frank did not start up. There was no necessity for doing it, since he had no desire to show off before the Dunkirk people, and it was the part of wisdom to conserve all his resources for the strain that awaited them.
He had his field glasses in his hand, and with these he now began to scan the heavens toward the west, veering a little to the northwest. The others waited anxiously to hear what he might discover.
“Nothing in sight from here,” announced Frank; “but then that was to be expected. We are low down on the water, and there are more or less streaks of haze in the air to interfere with a good view.”
“It’s too soon to look for them, anyway,” added Pudge.
“How long do they expect to be on the journey across the Channel, Frank?” Billy inquired.
“From what Major Nixon said, I should guess from twenty minutes to half an hour,” Frank explained. “It all depends on what air currents they strike, and whether they meet with any accidents on the way.”
“There’s our friend the sergeant waving to us from the shore,” announced Billy. “He doesn’t know what’s going on, but he wants you to understand he wishes you all kinds of good luck.”
“Oh!” suddenly cried Pudge, “what’s that over there, Frank! Focus your glass on it and tell me! I hope it isn’t one of those sassy little Taube machines come to bother us just when we want to be let alone.”
“No fear,” he was told by Frank as soon as he caught the far distant object that had caused this outbreak on the part of the fat boy. “That’s only a gull circling around in the sunlight.”
“Hadn’t we better be up so we can join the fleet without wasting any time?” asked Billy