other prisoners, talking to them with great earnestness.

Swallowing my chagrin, I stepped down into the cockpit and began
throwing out the water. But hardly had I begun, when the boom
swung overhead, the mainsail filled with a jerk, and the Reindeer
heeled over. The day wind was springing up. George was the
veriest of landlubbers, so I was forced to give over bailing and
take the tiller. The wind was blowing directly off Point Pedro and
the high mountains behind, and because of this was squally and
uncertain, half the time bellying the canvas out and the other half
flapping it idly.

George was about the most all-round helpless man I had ever met.
Among his other disabilities, he was a consumptive, and I knew that
if he attempted to bail, it might bring on a hemorrhage. Yet the
rising water warned me that something must be done. Again I
ordered the shrimp-catchers to lend a hand with the buckets. They
laughed defiantly, and those inside the cabin, the water up to
their ankles, shouted back and forth with those on top.

"You'd better get out your gun and make them bail," I said to
George.

But he shook his head and showed all too plainly that he was
afraid. The Chinese could see the funk he was in as well as I
could, and their insolence became insufferable. Those in the cabin
broke into the food lockers, and those above scrambled down and
joined them in a feast on our crackers and canned goods.

"What do we care?" George said weakly.