The door of my cabin was closed, and my window, or port, was but half open, sliding as it did upon sills about five feet above the main deck.
A shadow passed even as I looked up, but when I sprang out of my bunk and slammed the glass open, there was nothing near the opening.
Just twenty or thirty feet distant forward two of the crew were working on some gear, and the light was still strong enough to recognize them as Jim and Bill, of Slade's watch. Then the bells of the dogwatch struck, and I went on deck, swearing at myself for a nervous fool.
I refused to take a gun which hung over my bunk, hating the idea of doing such a thing, for guns always spelled trouble in all ships I had ever been in, and I hated the idea of using one. I went on the poop, and Miss MacDonald was sitting there with her aunt, chatting with the old man.
"Keep her steady as she goes—sou'west half west," said Gantline, as I came up.
"Aye, aye, sir," I answered, and was about to go aft to the wheel, when the young lady spoke to me.
"I have just asked the captain to allow me to read a chapter from the Bible to those Chinamen," she said, "and, if you will assist me, we will gather them close together on the deck there"—pointing to the main deck. "I can stand upon the edge and see them better. You don't know whether they can speak or understand English, do you?"
"I think they understand me at times," I ventured, "but I'm a bit doubtful about the kind of talk you will toss them."
"Toss them? What do you mean?" she asked.
"Why, I mean—well, they understand the kind of English we use at times—I don't know how to explain—it isn't a written language——"