He did know perfectly how to manage his clumsy craft, which, in obedience to his signs to the steersman, was run on in a diagonal course which took it in nearer to the bank from which the cliff ran up. Then, as a few yells were uttered, some of the men seized the ropes, others got out great sweeps, there was a bang on the gong, the two great sails came rattling down upon the deck, the long sweeps began to dip as the junk’s pace grew slower and slower, till she finally stopped and began to go back, but so slowly and well-directed that she glided close alongside the wharf, whence men threw ropes; and in a wonderfully short time, considering the clumsiness of the craft and equipage, the junk was moored alongside so closely that it was possible to run a gangway aboard for the occupants to go ashore.
Stan was making ready to approach the gangway, when the figure in white approached the side, and without taking any notice of him, nodded to the Chinese captain shortly, and then turned to Wing.
“Hullo, you, sir!” he shouted in a big, vigorous voice, as if he meant himself to be heard back at the stern.
“Yes. Come back again,” said Wing.
“What made you so long?”
“Velly bad wind blow velly much indeed. Steamship no get ’long fast.”
“Humph! Bring me any letters?”
“Yes, bling big pack letteys. Got lot.”
“Come along, then, ashore; I’ve no time to waste.”
“I shall never like you,” thought Stan to himself as he waited patiently for the manager to address him in turn. But the big, keen, masterful-looking fellow did not seem even to glance in the lad’s direction, keeping his eyes fixed upon Wing, who seemed to be quite afraid of him, and did not venture to speak till the manager said loudly and sharply, as if to annoy the stranger: