This morning meal and the
two other meals taken by Boyton during his arduous undertaking cannot
be considered very epicurean. Each frugal repast consists of nothing
more than half a pint of good strong tea, green with a dash of black,
and a couple of beef sandwiches. The tea wakes him up directly.
Inspirited by the cup that cheers, he is roused to fresh vigor, and
zestfully plies his paddle with wonted dexterity.
"Quarter to twelve.--Captain Dane says that Boyton is now in mid-
channel. The tide has swept him north-easterly. The French cliffs are
dim. The white cliffs of Dover are not yet visible to the naked eye. In
half an hour the coast line of England looms in sight. Clearer and
clearer the cliffs grow out of the haze as the afternoon wears away. At
twenty minutes from two a steamboat full of excursionists from
Folkestone, decked with flags from stem to stern, sends a volley of
rattling cheers across the water, and fair hands flutter handkerchiefs
in honor of Captain Boyton, who runs up the stars and stripes in
acknowledgement of their hearty encouragement. Another steamer
proceeding across the channel is cheering Captain Boyton and dipping
her ensign in his honor. More and more distinct grow the Dover cliffs.
The outline of the Castle is clearly defined.
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