“No talking,” said Mr Brooke; and we glided on again in silence, but not many yards before a light gleamed out in front.
“Quick, down at the bottom, all of you! Ching, take the tiller!”
We all crouched down; Ching sat up, holding the tiller, and the light ahead gleamed out brightly, showing the sails and hulls of the two great junks only fifty yards away, and each towing a big heavy boat. There were the black silhouettes, too, of figures leaning over the stern, and a voice hailed us in Chinese, uttering hoarse, strange sounds, to which Ching replied in his high squeak.
Then the man gave some gruff order, and Ching replied again. The light died out, and there was silence once more.
“What did he say?” whispered Mr Brooke.
“Say what fo’ sail about all in dark?”
“Yes, and you?”
“Tell him hollid big gleat lie! Say, go catchee fish when it glow light.”
“Yes.”
“And pilate say be off, or he come in boat and cuttee off my head.”