"It is a mark of honour for the captain to be wounded when the private escapes," said Chung Pi; but as it was difficult for either Lo San or Chin Tai to interpret while attending to their task, the two wounded men relapsed into silence, regarding each other with mutual sympathy.
An altercation sprang up between the two punters. Each declared that the other was a fool, and would wreck the boat. Lo San, presuming on his acquaintance with the swamp, let fall slighting remarks on Chin Tai's ignorance, which exasperated his fellow-servant. But mindful of Errington's threats on a former occasion, they subdued their voices; and since they spoke in Chinese, the Englishmen never knew what insults they hurled at each other.
Errington thought his best course was to steer straight up the channel into which the boat had fallen, rather than diverge to right or left into the cross channels to which he came at frequent intervals. The sky was growing darker and darker; it would soon be impossible to proceed, and the prospect of spending the night in comparatively open water, with the chance of being stumbled upon by the pursuers, or spied in the morning, was exceedingly damping to the spirits. A very few minutes after the vessel had been got under way, the throb of the gunboat's engine was distinctly heard; and Errington, ordering the men to keep silent, shortly afterwards caught the sound of voices and then the thud of oars from the direction of the river. There was little doubt that two, if not three, boats had been lowered from the gunboat, and were already coming at a good pace into the swamp. This was, however, so broad that the fugitives were fairly safe for the present. The pursuers might, indeed, by some unlucky chance, know of the hiding-place which Errington was seeking; but they could not have any reason to guess that Errington knew of it, unless they had among them some of the men from whom he had escaped before; and in any case the growing darkness would render it as difficult for them as for Errington to make their way there.
For some time the vessel was punted slowly along; the sounds of pursuit drew nearer; and Errington almost despaired of succeeding in his quest when Lo San gave a low exclamation, and signed eagerly to his master to steer to the right. In another minute the boat emerged into the pool. To cross it was the work of only a few seconds, and Errington recognized with great relief the opening of the narrow, tortuous passage through which the boat had been towed. Leaving the steering wheel, he got over the side into the water, and went to the nose of the boat, so that he might the more easily prevent it from sticking in the reed-beds. Thus, wading and punting, they forced the vessel through the passage until they came within a few yards of the patch of dry land.
Here they stopped for a few minutes, while Errington stole forward and reconnoitred. There were the huts, just distinguishable in the darkness. All was quiet. The same few broken sampans were drawn up on the shore. In the midst of the open space was the cooking-stove at which the old Chinawoman had been broiling fish. Errington, with many a cautious look around, stepped on to the shore and walked rapidly but stealthily up to the huts. He paused at each, listening. No voices, no snores, came from within them. The place was deserted.
Returning to the boat, he brought it from out its shelter among the reeds, and soon had it drawn up for a few feet on the muddy shore. Every one of the party breathed more freely. They sat on the sampans to rest. For some little time no one spoke; they all listened intently: would the pursuers come to the same spot? They could hear voices, faint in the distance; but the sounds seemed to be receding. It appeared certain that, whether they knew of it or not, the pursuers were not at present rowing in the direction of the hiding-place. Presently absolute silence reigned; and Errington reckoned that they were lucky in having approached so late in the evening, when the wild fowl had settled themselves; otherwise they might have been betrayed by the birds' flight.
"We can't see what's wrong with the machine in the darkness," said Burroughs at length, in a whisper; "and we daren't strike a light."
"No; the only thing we can do is to wait for morning," replied Errington. "We shall pass a wretched night, old man."
"It might be worse. I only wish I hadn't got this whack in the shoulder; it stings horribly."
"I can bathe it and tie it up; hope it's not serious; but if we can get the machine mended we shan't be long running down to Sui-Fu in the morning, and then we'll soon put you to rights."