In the Yellow Sea. Frith Henry
and in five minutes the schooner was passing out by the north channel.
"Eagan," I said, "where are you taking me? I must join my ship."
He shook his head, and went to the wheel himself, leaving me raging. I followed him.
"Do you hear?" I cried. "This is piracy. I'll give the alarm if you do not put me ashore. Hail a boat!"
"Just lie low, Jule. Wait till we reach Shanghai, you'll find the steamer there, I expect, and if not you can wire; so be easy, boy."
"I'll make a row for this!" I cried, feeling enraged with him.
"If ye do I'll put ye overboard. The crew are Chinese, and no one will care except me. So, keep still, and I'll land you safely up at Shanghai; best so, I tell ye."
"Then you are hired to carry these fellows; I see. There is something wrong here, Eagan, and you shouldn't do it."
"It's no business of mine, lad. I'm paid for the passage, and when they land it's finished. Your old screw will be in Shanghai before us. There's nothing wrong in the case so far as I see yet; I'll tell you more in a while. Go and have some supper."
I was very much annoyed by this departure, and began to grumble at the skipper; he only laughed at first, and then got angry in his turn, until the mate came aft and dragged me below, where we supped in amity.
"Take no notice of anything," said my new friend; "but, 'tween you and me, there's going to be trouble about this. For one of these chaps has been induced by the other to clear out of Victoria and to go to Shanghai. I can understand some of the lingo, and it's plain to me that the man named Oh Sing, or Kim, – I can't quite catch it, – is rather frightened of the boss, whose name is Lung. The Lung man won't let him out of his sight, and if a chance comes I suspect Mr. Lung will punish the other fellow."
"What's his object, then?" I asked.
"Can't say. Eagan is suspicious, too, of these Coreans. One fellow is evidently nervous, and keeps his Japanese servant near him all the time. The captain don't want any fuss on board this ship, you understand."
"Well, I shall say nothing. We shan't be long in reaching Shanghai, and there I can quit, eh?"
"Certainly – why yes, of course. Now, when you're finished, we shall go on deck. The captain will want to go down then, and you shall watch with me if you like. Keep your eyes skinned."
"You scent danger then?"
"In two ways. The glass is falling; that, after such a jumpy time as we've had, means tempest. You know that?"
I nodded, and he proceeded.
"Then, again, we must never leave these passengers to themselves, unless the weather's very bad, because there'll be trouble. If the weather's bad they'll all be sick, and near dead anyway. So let us pray for typhoon, mister."
"I shall not," was my reply. "When you see the barometer waltzing down to twenty-eight degrees or so you'll pray for something more interesting to yourself! Keep an eye upon the Coreans by all means, but watch the glass whatever you do."
We were strolling up and down the weather-side of the deck. The wind was off shore, and a bit abaft the beam. As we cleared the Channel we spun along the ripples, sending the "phosphorus" flying around the stern, and light-up the forepart to the chains. The sky was perfectly clear, and the mate hoped to reach Formosa quickly with such a breeze.
We were still strolling at four bells, ten o'clock, and then I felt inclined to turn in somewhere.
"Take my bunk in the inner cabin. If you hear anything, just let me or the skipper know. Those fellows have a game on if I am not mistaken; but no 'revenge' in this ship, I say."
He nodded at me significantly in the soft light by the binnacle. The steersman was a Lascar. The crew was composed of a variety of natives; but in the cold weather of the northern sea the Lascars were as dead – and died too.
"Good-night," I said. "I'll find my way."
I stepped softly down the stairs, and passed through the "saloon" or eating-cabin. I found the berth close by, and tumbled in by the dim light of a swinging candle-lamp of the spring-up pattern, as we used to call it. The company in the saloon had dispersed; the captain had quitted it some time before, and the two Coreans and the Japanese servant, who stuck to Oh Sing, parted. The man Lung, I fancied, disposed himself in the saloon. The other came and looked at me, and perceiving that I did not stir, he, after a pause, crawled out, hands and knees, on the floor, and vanished in the darkness outside the berth.
The wind was rising, the sea was following suit. I slept lightly as usual, when I was awakened by a breathing close to my face. I opened my eyes quickly, and started up.
A knife flashed in my face. I seized it, and shouted, "Help!"
At the moment I cried out I sprang up. Someone at the same time extinguished the already expiring lamp, and as I leaped upon the deck-floor I distinctly heard something retiring. I called again, and the captain came down into the dark and silent saloon.
"What's the matter?" he asked. "Is that you, Mr. Julius? Had a bad dream, I reckon, eh? What are you doing here, anyway?"
He turned a ship's lantern upon my scared countenance as he was speaking.
"No; someone came into the berth and flashed a knife in my eyes. If I had not called out I would have been stabbed."
"Nonsense, nonsense," said the captain, who still blinked the light upon my alarmed looks. "There are no murderers here, lad. But tell me how you came in here; this berth belongs to the passengers."
"The mate told me I would find a bunk in his berth."
"Likely; but this isn't his. This belongs to one of my passengers – to Mr. Oh Sing."
"To him!" I exclaimed, recalling the hints of the mate. "Then perhaps somebody intended to stab him!"
The skipper looked at me steadily for quite half a minute, without speaking. Then he replied —
"Better come on deck, sonny; you'll see no knives there, and may bear a hand for me. I think, somehow, a storm is coming up. Look slippy now," he said, as he went to examine the other "rooms" astern.
I looked as slippy as possible, but "look sleepy" was just then the more correct expression, as I ascended the stairs to the deck. The breezy, somewhat cool, night soon dissipated the feelings of sloth which remained in my eyes, and I was able to grasp the aspects of the surroundings, which were, after all, pleasanter than the revealed dangers of the cabin.
The mate was forward, and I took up my position by the wheel so as to look well ahead and around. There was a low grating astern, on that I stood and cast my eyes over the sails.
The schooner was slipping away north-east, the wind still just a little abaft the beam, and filling all our sails. The Harada was a topsail schooner – that is, she carried small square sails aloft on the foremast, and as I reflected, with a fast-beating heart, upon the very narrow escape I had had below, my glance was fixed upon the topsail, which seemed pulling hard at intervals. Then the wind would slacken again, the cloths would remain at their former tension, and all well.
The sky was beautifully blue-black and clear, and I calculated that we should reach Shanghai in about six days, supposing no bad weather intervened. I felt very happy and comfortable there, in command, nominally, of the vessel, though I wondered why the skipper remained below.
After a while I became convinced that the breeze was increasing, and more than that, in a jerky, uncertain manner which I did not like. We had plenty of sail on the vessel, jib, stayforesail, topsail, fore and aft foresail, and mainsail. I fancied we ought to furl the topsail at anyrate, and I called the captain through the skylight.
Eagan came up smartly, and after a comprehensive look around, said —
"Mr. Julius, just call the hands, will you? Watch will reduce sail," he cried. "Be smart, lads!"
The watch, who had been resting in the "shade" of the bulwarks, at once arose at the summons, and I ran forward to call all hands, but the mate anticipated me and turned the men up.
"Come,