I told the Commander all I had seen, and then he ordered me to make sketches, showed me how to make them fairly accurately, and lent me his pencil.
I had a pocket-book of my own, and worked hard at it for two hours or more, and I think that I was really too frightened of the Commander to worry about our actual danger, for he was furiously angry at my first few attempts.
"I've never done anything like this before, sir."
"What the dickens were you doing in the Britannia?" he muttered. "I'll see that you get plenty of practice when we get back to the Laird."
"But please, sir, how are we going to get back?" I ventured to ask him presently. He would not answer me—only chuckled.
Every now and again the man who was fishing would be joined by some comrades, who were apparently on duty as sentries, for presently another steam-launch came swiftly from the town and ran alongside the landing-stage. The fisherman dropped his line and stood to attention; his chums ran up the steps, seized their rifles, and presented arms, whilst two Europeans stepped ashore.
One was the man with the black beard, the second was none other than Hopkins, and you can imagine how excited I was, for I could have hit them with a stone, they were so near, and I could hear Hopkins laughing merrily as he spun some yarn.
They climbed the steps, passed the sentries, and disappeared round the corner.
In about half an hour they came back and crossed to the other jetty. Here they were met by a third European, and all three walked up towards the fort, the coolies making way for them.
They did not stay long there. Hopkins and the black-bearded man came slowly down the zigzag path, jumped into the steam-boat, shoved off, and steamed towards the Hong Lu.