"Yes," said Lingard, "we have met very few ships since we left Pedra
Branca over the stern. Yes; it has been a lonely sea. But for all that,
Shaw, this sea, if lonely, is not blind. Every island in it is an eye.
And now, since our squadron has left for the China waters--"

He did not finish his sentence. Shaw put his hands in his pockets, and
propped his back against the sky-light, comfortably.

"They say there is going to be a war with China," he said in a gossiping
tone, "and the French are going along with us as they did in the Crimea
five years ago. It seems to me we're getting mighty good friends with
the French. I've not much of an opinion about that. What do you think,
Captain Lingard?"

"I have met their men-of-war in the Pacific," said Lingard, slowly. "The
ships were fine and the fellows in them were civil enough to me--and
very curious about my business," he added with a laugh. "However, I
wasn't there to make war on them. I had a rotten old cutter then, for
trade, Shaw," he went on with animation.

"Had you, sir?" said Shaw without any enthusiasm. "Now give me a big
ship--a ship, I say, that one may--"

"And later on, some years ago," interrupted Lingard, "I chummed with
a French skipper in Ampanam--being the only two white men in the whole
place. He was a good fellow, and free with his red wine. His English
was difficult to understand, but he could sing songs in his own language
about ah-moor--Ah-moor means love, in French--Shaw."

"So it does, sir--so it does. When I was second mate of a Sunderland