unloosen the lashings of the tarpaulin cover of one of six large hogsheads like water-casks that were placed along the gangway of the ship and securely fastened between the ports—started at the sound of Bill’s voice; and, seeing that his eye was fixed on him, pretended slily for a moment to be intently gazing out seawards, and then slunk stealthily along the deck more aft to the bitts of the mainmast, where a group of his tawny fellow-countrymen were gathered together away from the rest of the crew—squatting on their haunches, and gabbling away at a great rate.

“Blow them yaller imps!” said the boatswain to his companion as the native retreated out of earshot. “I don’t like ’em, for they’re a treach’rous lot, and would knife you as soon as look. Why, as you know, Jem, they won’t obey no orders, even from the cap’en, ’cept through their own serang, or chief—ourang-outang I think’d be a better name for him, the ugly beast! And if you was to strike one with a rope’s end—if only in lark, mind you, to make him move quicker—why, you’d be a dead man ’fore morning, safe as houses! I shouldn’t like, mate, for you and me to be the only white men aboard with that ’ere rascal lot of Lascars on the high seas, my hearty! We’re short-handed as it is, with only four men in each watch, barrin’ Snowball the cook and the officers, which makes us twelve white men in all, besides little Jack Harper—for I count Snowball as one of us, although he is a niggur; and there are twenty of them Lascars altogether and their chief. Howsomedevers, Jem, I’ve spoke to the cap’en, beggin’ his pardin for the liberty, an’ he told me as how he was a lookin’ out and not unmindful; so, bo, it’s all right, you see.”

“And you think, Bill, the skipper’s goin’ to bring off some more hands like us?”

“I don’t think nothin’ about it, Jem Backstay. When the cap’en tells me it’s all right, I knows it’s all right; and that’s enough for me! Heave an eye out to starboard, mate; ain’t that a light on shore, like a signal or something?”

“Ay, ay!” replied the other, drawing himself up to all the height of his six feet, and stretching out his brawny arms lazily as he peered over the bows through the hazy light, for the sun had just set, and the shore could only be faintly distinguished in the distance. “Aye, aye, my hearty! A light it is for certain.”

“Then it’s the cap’en, sure!” said Bill; “he’s late to-night. I hope we’ll start our anchor at last; I’m tired o’ this Canton River.”

“Foc’s’le, ahoy!” at the same moment shouted out Mr Scuppers, the first mate, from the poop, where he was pacing to and fro with young Jack Harper, the midshipman.

“Aye, aye, sir!” shouted out in answer Bill and Jem together.

“You are awake, are you? I thought you were all asleep! Hoist up a lantern at the fore, to show the cap’en where we are, it’s getting quite dark; and see if that Snowball’s asleep in the galley; tell him it’s six bells, and time for my coffee.”

The negro cook, however, was awake for a wonder, and heard the mate’s message, thus saving the trouble of its being repeated to him.

“Yah, yah! me no sleep, Massa Scuppers,” he called out with that cheerful good humour that seems characteristic of the darky race, and which seems proof against any ill treatment;—“me jus’ goin’ brin’ coffee, sah, yes sah! It am lubly hot, massa, and ’trong as carthoss!”

“Hot and strong is it, Snowball?” said the first mate in his hearty, jolly way, as the darky cook stepped gingerly past the group of Lascars, and handed the cup of coffee up to him on the poop, with an obsequious bow. “But, how is it you’re not asleep?”

“Best to be most circumspectious, massa, wid dem culled pussons aboard; no caulking wid dem nasty yaller gen’lemen for me!”

“Well, that’s a good un!” laughed Mr Scuppers; “the pot calling the kettle black with a vengeance!”

“You mistake sah,” said Snowball with dignity. “I knows, Massa Scuppers, I isn’t ’xactly like you white gen’lemen; but den I isn’t a nasty mulatto like dem poor trash; and dey isn’t to be trusted!”

“Perhaps you’re right, Snowball; but we ought not to suspect them till we’ve found them out, you know.”

After another turn or two on deck, Mr Scuppers cabled the boatswain to him,—

“Martens,” said he, “have those Lascars turned in yet?”

“No, sir,” said Bill; “one of ’em at all events was awake just now, and spying about forward.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed the mate in a tone of surprise, as if the information was both unexpected and alarming. “Pass the word forward for the serang to come aft to me at once!”

“Aye, aye, air,” replied the boatswain, touching his cap as he left the poop; and in another minute or so this Malay—serang is the name given to the chief of the gang—appeared, rubbing his eyes as if just awakened up from sleep.

He was the very same broad-shouldered, thick-set, tawny-yellow native with jet black coarse hair, like that out of a horse’s tail, and low Mongolian type of face, whom the boatswain had seen inspecting the casks on deck. He now cringed and salaamed before the first mate.

“You wantee me, comprador?” said the man, speaking in that species of Portuguese patois which is so common in the Straits Settlements.

“Yes, Kifong,” said the first mate, speaking likewise in broken lingo, with the idea of making himself better understood. “Captain sahib say he wantee you berry early morning, four bell, to get up anchor. You go below now first chop, and turn in; do you hear that!” he shouted out in very unmistakable English, pointing below to the foc’s’le hatch.

“Si, Senor Comprador,” salaamed again the Malay; then, giving a shrill whistle and waving his rattan of office, the gang around the mainmast roused up, and followed him to their bunks below as obediently as a flock of sheep, without a word.

“Get the side-lines ready for the accommodation ladder, Martens,” said Mr Scuppers, “and see that the gig-falls are clear to hoist it in; for we’ll trip anchor at daylight if the wind holds, and leave this blessed Canton River in our wake. Slip down the foc’s’le hatch over the yellow beggars. So there, that’s all right, and the cap’en can come as soon as he pleases!”

Presently the sound of oars was heard approaching the ship; and soon the captain’s gig, pulled by six oars, came alongside quietly. The light was again shown, the ladder let down and side-ropes manned, and the well-known face of the skipper appeared above the gangway. “This way, Mr Meredith,” said the latter to a well-wrapped-up gentleman who accompanied him, besides the second mate, Mr Sprott, who remained behind to see the gig hoisted in. “This way, Mr Meredith; please tell the others to follow!”

The captain thereupon led the way into the saloon—Snowball carrying the lantern to light up—followed by the gentleman whom he had addressed by name, and ten others in single file bringing up the rear behind him; then the cuddy doors were slid to and the saloon cut off from the rest of the ship.

The captain came on deck after a time, and ordered the boatswain to tell the men to give no hints to the Malays as to the passengers, and then an anchor-watch was set, and all hands turned in for the night.