Dinner came at eight o’clock, rather a sumptuous affair in honour of the occasion, and full justice was done to the cook’s culinary efforts to live up to the event. Finally the bottle was opened after a teetotal meal, and Boyd poured out the port.
‘As somebody or other once wisely observed,’ said Raymond, as he prepared to drink, ‘a drop of whisky makes the whole world kin, but give me a touch of the good old fruity as a really finishing end to a perfect day. Whew! it’s getting stuffy.’
‘Always seems to after dinner,’ replied Boyd. ‘Must be the effort of eating after sixteen hours’ diving, or else we eat so much that there isn’t any room for fresh air.’
‘Or much air, either,’ said Seagrave, ‘not after twenty or so other people have used it. This is the longest dive I’ve ever done, but as regards the amount of grub eaten, that’s entirely a personal matter. Do you mean to insinuate....’
‘That you ate a pound of cherries to-day? Of course I do. I admit I’ve been asleep most of the day, but whenever I’ve woken up and cocked an eye over the bunkboard I’ve seen you gobbling fruit like a schoolgirl at a bun struggle.’
‘Well, I’ve had a system, and I haven’t been able to work it this patrol, but the idea is to eat six cherries between looks through the “perisher,” and suck the stones while I’m there.’
‘Beastly habit,’ said Raymond. ‘We’ll have to stop bringing out fruit if it’s going to lead to these debauches.’
‘And deprive me of my sole pleasure in life. That’s a bit ’ard.’
‘It’s a bit ’ard on me that I can’t get any cherries at all on account of your gormandising habits. That’s what’s a bit ’ard.’
‘Are you going to wait till ten before rising?’ asked Boyd, changing the subject skilfully.