But the land breeze had begun to die away with the rising sun, and
now came only in failing puffs. The salmon boat got out its oars
and soon left us far astern. Some of the Chinese stood in the
forward part of the cockpit, near the cabin doors, and once, as I
leaned over the cockpit rail to flatten down the jib-sheet a bit, I
felt some one brush against my hip pocket. I made no sign, but out
of the corner of my eye I saw that the Yellow Handkerchief had
discovered the emptiness of the pocket which had hitherto overawed
him.

To make matters serious, during all the excitement of boarding the
junks the Reindeer had not been bailed, and the water was beginning
to slush over the cockpit floor. The shrimp-catchers pointed at it
and looked to me questioningly.

"Yes," I said. "Bime by, allee same dlown, velly quick, you no
bail now. Sabbe?"

No, they did not "sabbe," or at least they shook their heads to
that effect, though they chattered most comprehendingly to one
another in their own lingo. I pulled up three or four of the
bottom boards, got a couple of buckets from a locker, and by
unmistakable sign-language invited them to fall to. But they
laughed, and some crowded into the cabin and some climbed up on
top.

Their laughter was not good laughter. There was a hint of menace
in it, a maliciousness which their black looks verified. The
Yellow Handkerchief, since his discovery of my empty pocket, had
become most insolent in his bearing, and he wormed about among the