“It is a fact, gentlemen,” said Ivan with the long surname. “The ship is loading between here and Vladivostok. She wants but a master, a mate and an engineer.”
The three men grew sad. They had been broken on the rack of peace. They had come ashore at Novgorod in a leaking sampan. The government of Japan was at that moment interested in their whereabouts.
“Our papers were lost in a great storm at sea,” said the leader of the trio, whom men called “Micky” McMasters. “You mind the vast simoom?”
Ivan, the Russian, spread out his hands. His great spade-shaped beard fluttered in the warm Japanese breeze. He thumped a be-medaled chest.
“Come with me!” he said. “Papers or no papers—it is you three who shall take the Shongpong out across the sea.”
“He talks like a poet writes,” whispered “Red” Landyard, a Yankee mate, to Mike Monkey, the Scotch engineer.
“Ah hae noo doot he’s read a wee bit. How otherwise would he know we were on the beach at Novgorod? There is a price on our heads.”
Micky McMasters edged the big Russian away from his whispering companions.
“This ship,” asked the little skipper, “this boat you ’ave loading between ’ere and Vladivostok—what flag does she fly?”
“Her home flag is Chinese. Her crew are loyal Russians. Her cargo, now going aboard, is caravan tea. This tea must be taken to America where Victoria on the Island of Vancouver is. Do you know the route?”