It was the hand of Gideon Spilett, who said,—
“One moment, Master Pencroft, you mustn’t sneak off like that! You’ve forgotten your dessert.”
“Thank you, Mr. Spilett,” replied the sailor, “I am going back to my work.”
“Well, a cup of coffee, my friend?”
“Nothing more.”
“A pipe, then?”
Pencroft jumped up, and his great good-natured face grew pale when he saw the reporter presenting him with a ready-filled pipe, and Herbert with a glowing coal.
The sailor endeavored to speak, but could not get out a word; so, seizing the pipe, he carried it to his lips, then applying the coal, he drew five or six great whiffs. A fragrant blue cloud soon arose, and from its depths a voice was heard repeating excitedly,—
“Tobacco! real tobacco!”
“Yes, Pencroft,” returned Cyrus Harding, “and very good tobacco too!”