Somehow, now the morning had come, the notion seemed less tempting.
The water looked damp and chilly: the wind felt cold.
“Well, who’s going to be first in?” said Harris at last.
There was no rush for precedence.
George settled the matter so far as he was concerned by retiring into the boat and pulling on his socks.
Montmorency gave vent to an involuntary howl, as if merely thinking of the thing had given him the horrors; and Harris said it would be so difficult to get into the boat again, and went back and sorted out his trousers.
I did not altogether like to give in, though I did not relish the plunge.
There might be snags about, or weeds, I thought.
I meant to compromise matters by going down to the edge and just throwing the water over myself; so I took a towel and crept out on the bank and wormed my way along on to the branch of a tree that dipped down into the water.
In the ThamesIt was bitterly cold.
The wind cut like a knife.
I thought I would not throw the water over myself after all.
I would go back into the boat and dress; and I turned to do so; and, as I turned, the silly branch gave way, and I and the towel went in together with a tremendous splash, and I was out mid-stream with a gallon of Thames water inside me before I knew what had happened.
“By Jove! old J.’s gone in,” I heard Harris say, as I came blowing to the surface.
“I didn’t think he’d have the pluck to do it.
Did you?”
“Is it all right?” sung out George.
“Lovely,” I spluttered back.
“You are duffers not to come in.
I wouldn’t have missed this for worlds.
Why won’t you try it?
It only wants a little determination.”
But I could not persuade them.
Rather an amusing thing happened while dressing that morning.
I was very cold when I got back into the boat, and, in my hurry to get my shirt on, I accidentally jerked it into the water.
It made me awfully wild, especially as George burst out laughing.
I could not see anything to laugh at, and I told George so, and he only laughed the more.
I never saw a man laugh so much.
I quite lost my temper with him at last, and I pointed out to him what a drivelling maniac of an imbecile idiot he was; but he only roared the louder.
And then, just as I was landing the shirt, I noticed that it was not my shirt at all, but George’s, which I had mistaken for mine; whereupon the humour of the thing struck me for the first time, and I began to laugh.
And the more I looked from George’s wet shirt to George, roaring with laughter, the more I was amused, and I laughed so much that I had to let the shirt fall back into the water again.
“Ar’n’t you—you—going to get it out?” said George, between his shrieks.
I could not answer him at all for a while, I was laughing so, but, at last, between my peals I managed to jerk out:
“It isn’t my shirt—it’s yours!”
I never saw a man’s face change from lively to severe so suddenly in all my life before.
“What!” he yelled, springing up.
“You silly cuckoo!
Why can’t you be more careful what you’re doing?
Why the deuce don’t you go and dress on the bank?
You’re not fit to be in a boat, you’re not.
Gimme the hitcher.”
I tried to make him see the fun of the thing, but he could not.
George is very dense at seeing a joke sometimes.
Harris proposed that we should have scrambled eggs for breakfast. He said he would cook them.
It seemed, from his account, that he was very good at doing scrambled eggs.
He often did them at picnics and when out on yachts.
He was quite famous for them.
People who had once tasted his scrambled eggs, so we gathered from his conversation, never cared for any other food afterwards, but pined away and died when they could not get them.
It made our mouths water to hear him talk about the things, and we handed him out the stove and the frying-pan and all the eggs that had not smashed and gone over everything in the hamper, and begged him to begin.
He had some trouble in breaking the eggs—or rather not so much trouble in breaking them exactly as in getting them into the frying-pan when broken, and keeping them off his trousers, and preventing them from running up his sleeve; but he fixed some half-a-dozen into the pan at last, and then squatted down by the side of the stove and chivied them about with a fork.