eddy to a collidge eddication--
to say nothin' o' pipes an' baccy. Ochone!--if we'd only not lost the
first haul, we'd have bin millerinaires be this time. I wouldn't have
called the Quane me grandmother."

"Come, Rooney, be grateful for what you've got," said Edgar. "Enough is
as good as a feast."

"Ah! Sur, it'll be time to say that when we've finished the puppy,"
replied the Irishman, as Chok-foo placed on the board a savoury roast
which bore some resemblance to the animal named, though, having had its
head and legs amputated, there could be no absolute certainty on the
point. Whatever it was, the party attacked it with relish, and silence
reigned until it was finished, after which conversation flowed again--
somewhat languidly at first. When, however, pipes were got out by those
who smoked, and chairs were placed in the verandah, and no sound was
heard around save the yelling of Chinese children who were romping in
the Chinese kennel that skirted the pagoda, and the champing of the jaws
of Ram-stam and Chok-foo as they masticated inside--then came the feast
of reason, not to mention the flow of soul.

"I wonder what our friends at Whitstable will say to this ventur' of
ours," said Maxwell.

"Have you many friends there?" asked Edgar.

"Many?--of course I has. W'y, I suppose every English diver must have
friends there."

"Where is it?" asked Edgar.

"Why, sir, don't you know Whitstable?" exclaimed Joe Baldwin, in
surprise.

"You forget, Joe," replied Edgar, with a smile, "that although I have
learnt how to dive, and have read a good deal about the history of
diving, I am only an amateur after all, and cannot be supposed to know
everything connected with the profession. All I know about Whitstable
is that it is a port somewhere in the south of England."

"Right, sir," said Joe, "but it's more than that; it lies on the coast
of Kent, and is famous for its oyster-beds and its divers. How it came
to be a place of resort for divers _I_ don't know, but so it is, an' I
_have_ heard say it was divin' for oysters in days of old that gave the
natives a taste for the work. Anyhow, they've got the taste very
decided somehow, an' after every spell o' dirty weather they're sure to
have telegrams from all parts of the coast, and you'll see Lloyds'
agents huntin' up the divers in the public-houses an' packin' 'em off
wi' their gear right and left by rail to look after salvage.

"These men," continued Joe, "are