“He don’t understand a word of English,” muttered Baldwin.
Dwarro looked so intensely absent and sleepy as he sat lounging in the bow, that the divers felt relieved and continued, though in more cautious tones, to discuss their plans.
Meanwhile the boat ran into the Hong-Kong river. As it proceeded, a small light boat or skiff was observed approaching. Baldwin, who steered, sheered out a little in the hope of avoiding her, but the man who sculled her conformed to the movement, and quickly shot past their bow—so closely that he could exchange salutations with the pilot. Nothing more appeared to pass between the two,—indeed there seemed no time for further communication—nevertheless Rooney Machowl declared that some telegraphic signals by means of hands and fingers had certainly been exchanged.
In a short time the boat was turned sharp round by Baldwin, and run into a cove near a wall in which was a little wooden gate. A flight of dilapidated steps led to this gate.
“What if your friend should not be at home?” asked Joe, in a whisper.
“I’ll land the bags in any case and await him, while you return to the port with Dwarro,” replied Edgar.
If the pilot was interested in their proceedings, he must have been a consummate actor, for he took no notice whatever of the sudden change of the boat’s course, but continued to smoke languidly, and to gaze abstractedly into the water as if trying to read his fortune there, while Edgar and Rooney landed the bags, and carried them through the little gate into the Scotchman’s garden. In a few minutes Edgar returned to the boat, stepped in, and pushed off, while the two Chinamen, in obedience to orders, rowed out into the river.
“It’s all right,” whispered Edgar, sitting down beside Joe, “Wilson is at home, and has undertaken to have the bags carried to a place of safety long before any attempt to capture them could be organised, even if Dwarro knew our secret and were disposed to attempt such a thing. Besides, we will keep him under our eyes to-night as long as possible.”
That night, highly elated at the success of their labours, our four friends sat round their evening meal in the pagoda and related their various diving adventures and experiences to the admiring and sympathetic Molly Machowl. They had previously entertained the pilot with unlimited hospitality and tobacco, and that suspected individual, so far from showing any restless anxiety to shorten his stay, had coolly enjoyed himself until they were at last glad when he rose to go away.
On the following morning, too, he was ready with his boat before day-break, and the party returned to the scene of operations at the wreck in high spirits.