wildly out to sea, dragging the bicycle after it, right slap
off the edge of England. So Billy and the butcher's boy's bicycle were
dragged into the sea? Not at all. They were dragged _on_ to the sea,
which is not at all the same sort of thing. For the kite was such a very
extra patent one, and so perfectly designed and made, that it was just
strong enough to bear the weight of Billy and the bicycle, and to keep
them out of the water. So that Billy found himself riding splendidly
over the waves, and there was no more splashing than there would have
been on the road on a very muddy day. Luckily, the sea was smooth, or I
don't know what would have happened. It was smooth and greeny-blue, and
the sun made diamond sparkles on it, and Billy felt as grand as grand to
be riding over such a glorious floor. It was a fine time, but rather an
anxious one too. Because, suppose the string had not held? No one could
possibly ride a bicycle on the sea unless they had the really only truly
right sort of kite to hold the machine up.

Away and away went the kite, through the blue air up above, and away and
away went the bicycle over the greeny, foamy sea down below, and away
and away went Billy, and the kite went faster and faster and faster, and
faster went the bicycle--much, much faster than you would believe
unless you had seen it as Billy did. And just at the front-door of the
Bay of Biscay the bicycle caught up with a P. and O. steamer, and the
kite followed the course of the ship, and went alongside of it, so you
can guess how fast the bicycle was going.

And the Captain of the ship hailed Billy through a speaking-trumpet, and
said:

'Ahoy, there!'

Billy replied:

'Ahoy yourself!'

But the Captain couldn't hear him. So the Captain said something that
Billy couldn't hear either. But the people who were meant to hear heard,
and the great ship stopped, and Billy rode close up to it, and they
hauled him up by the string of the kite, and they put the bicycle in a
safe place, and tied the string to the mast, and then the Captain said:

'I suppose I'm dreaming you, boy, because what you're doing is
impossible.'

'I know it is,' said Billy; 'only I'm doing it--at least, I was till you
stopped me.'

They were both wrong, because, of course, if it had been impossible,
Billy could not have done it; but neither of them had a scientific
mind, as you and I have, dear reader.

So the Captain asked Billy to dinner, which was very ni