“Well, sir, you’ve had more schooling than ever I’ve had, but if it ain’t a bit magicky about them boats, I should like to know what it is.”
“What’s he talking about?” said Smith. “What do you mean?”
“They’re will-o’-the-wispy sort o’ boats, sir,” replied Jecks. “Don’t you see how they keep dodging on us? Just now they was in easy shot, now they’re two mile away. What does that mean?”
“Physical conformation of the road,” said Smith importantly.
“Oh, is it, sir?” said Jecks, scratching his head, with a dry smile on his face. “Well, I shouldn’t have thought as physic had anything to do with that, but I daresay you’re right, sir. Wish we could give them junks physic.”
“I don’t believe we shall get near enough to give them a dose,” said Smith discontentedly. “If I were the skipper, I’d—”
Smith did not say what he would, for just then there was a shout from the boat, the man with the lead giving such shallow soundings that we heard the gongs sound in the engine-room, and the clank of the machinery as it was stopped and reversed.
Then orders were given for soundings to be taken right across the river, but the result was always the same; the stream had suddenly shallowed, and it was at first supposed to be a bar; but sounding higher up proved that the shoal water was continuous, and though the lighter-draft junks had gone on, they had now come to a standstill, which suggested that they too had been stopped.
“Told you so,” grumbled Barkins, joining us. “All this trouble for nothing. Why didn’t the skipper open fire and blow ’em out of the water when he had a chance?”
“Go and ask him, Mr Barkins,” said Mr Brooke, who overheard his remark. “And if I were you, I’d ask him at the same time why it is amateurs can always manage better than the leader.”