Were they changing their time for some reason that they did not want us to
suspect? _Did they really wish to cut us off on our return?_
Speculating about the fate of the yellow mariners who once had manned those
clumsy sails, and about what scenes of bloody cruelty there must have been
when those eight mad desperadoes attacked the ancient Chinese vessel, we
sailed away and left them in their pirated junk. But I imagined, even when
the old junk was hull down beyond the horizon, that I could hear an angry
voice calling after us.
CHAPTER XXVII
WE REACH WHAMPOA, BUT NOT THE END OF OUR TROUBLES
We were only seven men to work that ship, and after all these years I
marvel at our temerity. Time and again the cry "All hands" would come down
the hatch and summon the three of us from below to make sail, or reef, or
furl, or man the braces. Weary and almost blind with sleep, we would
stagger on deck and pull and haul, or would swarm aloft and strive to cope
with the sails. The cook, and even Roger, served tricks at the wheel, turn
and turn about with the rest of us; and for three terrible weeks we forced
ourselves to the sheets and halyards, day and night, when we scarcely could
hold our eyes open or bend our stiffened fingers.
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