“Cold, sir!” I said wonderingly. “I hadn’t thought about it; I was so excited.”
“Yes; we had a narrow escape, my lad. It is a lesson in being careful with these cunning, treacherous wretches. You made sure it was a trader, Ching?”
“Ching neve’ quite su’e—only think so,” was the reply, accompanied by a peculiar questioning look, and followed by a glance over his right shoulder at the sky.
“No, I suppose not. I ought to have been more careful. They threw something down at the boat as soon as we had mounted: did they not, Jecks?”
“Yes, sir; I see it coming. Great pieces of ballast iron, as it took two on ’em to heave up over the bulwarks. I just had time to give the boat a shove with the hitcher when down it come. Gone through the bottom like paper, if I hadn’t. But beg pardon, sir, arn’t we going to have a storm?”
“Yes,” said Mr Brooke quietly; “I am running for the river, if I can make it. If not, for that creek we were in last night. Take the tiller, Mr Herrick,” he said, and he went forward.
“Going blow wind velly high. Gleat wave and knock houses down,” said Ching uneasily.
“Yes, my lad; we’re going to have what the Jay-pans calls a tycoon.”
“No, no, Tom Jecks,” I said, smiling.
“You may laugh, sir, but that’s so. I’ve sailed in these here waters afore and been in one. Had to race afore it with bare poles and holding on to the belaying-pins. Tycoons they call ’em, don’t they, Mr Ching?”