“I beg pardon, sir.”
“Yes?”
“I think I know how it could be done.”
“Eh? You, Mr Herrick! Pooh! Stop,” he said sharply, as, feeling completely abashed, I was shrinking away, when he laid his hand kindly on my shoulder. “Let’s hear what you mean, my boy. The mouse did help the lion in the fable, didn’t he?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Not that I consider myself a lion, Mr Herrick,” he said good-humouredly, “and I will not insult you by calling you a mouse; but these Chinese fiends are too much for me, and I really am caught in the net. Here, send that man forward, and come into my cabin.”
“Ching, go right up to the forecastle,” I said.
“No wantee go s’eep,” he said angrily. “Makee Ching bad see ship burned.”
“Never mind now; go and wait,” I whispered; and he nodded and went off, while I walked hurriedly back to the captain, who led the way to his cabin.
Before I had gone many steps I had to pass Smith, who came quickly up to me.