The voice faded away, and Chris with heavy gestures replaced the shell, shut the lid of his sea chest, and unlocking the door, went with dragging feet to tell Captain Blizzard of what awaited them.
The wind was only moderately fair so that the Mirabelle took some time passing beyond the Yellow Sea. During those days Chris practised his magic with more concentration than ever before. He rested and slept, ate hugely, and exercised by climbing up the masts of the Mirabelle, so that by the time a long dark line was sighted on their starboard side on the Chinese coast and the approach to Shanghai, Chris was fit and well as he had never been before.
Warned by Chris in time, Captain Blizzard, on hearing of the dangers ahead, had determined to put into port at Shanghai, and there, with much haggling and bargaining, bought four cannons and ammunition. He also laid in a store of swords, daggers, and assorted weapons for all on board.
Believing that an ounce of prevention was better than a pound of cure, the worthy captain drilled all hands on the Mirabelle twice a day thereafter. This, the weather being fair and the ship needing only the helmsman and a lookout to care for her, the sailors were quite willing to do. More especially when their captain, in whom they had unbounded faith, told them he had good reason to believe they would have a nasty, and perhaps disastrous, encounter with the pirate ship during which they bid fair to be bested if they did not bestir themselves and prepare for it.
The men entered into the training with gusto. They made dummies which were hung on ropes and maneuvered by their friends, braced in the rigging. The dummies were suddenly swung out and down in every direction, in imitation of pirates boarding the ship, and were fallen upon by the sailors of the Mirabelle with roars of glee as if they were at that very moment being tackled by the pirate crew. Then they practised fast turning and tacking of the ship, and even in between the regular hours set aside by the Captain for what he termed "fighting time," several groups of men could always be seen on some part of the deck practising dueling with sword and dagger. In short, long before the Mirabelle reached the East China Sea, its crew had become proficient in all manner of hand-to-hand fighting.
The Mirabelle was level with the Ryukyu Islands on a gusty, glary day when the lookout's long-drawn-out cry floated down from the crow's-nest to those sailors who were engaged in a mock fight on deck.
"Sail—ho-oo!"
Instantly every man was at the ship's side, shading his eyes against the dazzle that made a brassy light over sea and sky. The Ryukyu Islands, off the port beam, were not visible in the metallic haze that grew as the sun arched higher. The fitful wind gave promise of stopping altogether and leaving both ships becalmed.