The dog, a big, shaggy Newfoundland, soon regained his composure, and wagged his way along the deck with the greatest good-humour.
"He's a fine fellow, anyway," said Dave, patting the broad head. "I'm glad we hove to for him."
"What's this written on his collar," queried Liddon, taking the wet leather band in his hands and turning it, so as to read some rude characters apparently scratched with the point of a knife.
Dave glanced down carelessly, then sprang up the steps to the bridge.
"Starboard, Quartermaster," he ordered in sharp, quick tones. "Mr. Staples, head her dead for that junk!"
Liddon was already by his side. After the first instant he did not wonder at the commander's sudden change of course. He, too, had read the two words, scrawled on the dripping leather collar.
"Shanghaied—Scupp."
Both officers understood in a moment the whole story of the seaman's mysterious disappearance. They reasoned with the quickness of sailors—and correctly, as it afterwards appeared—that Scupp had yielded to his one unfortunate weakness, a fondness for liquor, during his liberty on shore. Once inside the rum shop he had been plied with spirits, probably drugged—for the Chinese are experts in the use of opium—and while insensible carried on board the junk, to be shipped on board a Russian man-of-war. So many men had deserted for that purpose that there was little likelihood of the man's objecting when he found himself actually pressed (or "shanghaied," to use an old sailor's term for this sort of forcible enlistment), and offered wages double those he had been earning. While the Russian navy would not instigate such a daring breach of the law of nations it was highly improbable that they would reject a good seaman, trained to his work by the United States.
In kidnapping Master Richard Scupp, however, the Chinese made a bad mistake. Now that he was sober Dick had no idea of deserting his colours or taking service under a foreign flag. He came to his senses just as the junk cleared the chops of the harbour of Chefoo, and within five minutes he had laid out three of his captors and was himself knocked down. He found himself lying beside a big dog, who licked his face and expressed his willingness to aid his new friend, so far as he was able, to escape. Without definite purpose Dick scratched the two words on the dog's collar with the point of his sheath knife. This act was detected by the observant Chinese, but they could see no harm in his amusing himself in that way and were rather glad for the dog to keep him out of mischief.
About half an hour later there was a commotion and a jabbering of tongues among the pig-tailed crew. Dick stood up and caught sight of the Osprey heading toward the junk at full speed. This drove him wild again. Bowling over the nearest Chinaman he sprang for a spare spar, intending to jump overboard and take his chances of being picked up. The crew crowded him back, and the dog, putting his forepaws on the rail, barked joyously at the gunboat which poor Dick vainly longed to reach.