“This Japanese officer will know what it is; I can’t read the language,” the sailor added. “It was opened just as you see it when we found it. Wasn’t it, Bill?”
Marley’s face broke into a happy smile as he assured the assembled officers and men, who had been progressively arriving as quickly as the numerous boats could land at the two gangways, that every word spoken by O’Neil was the gospel truth.
Lieutenant Winston took the letter and handed it over to the Japanese lieutenant who had been the first to arrive. Winston’s face wore a solemn air of perplexity.
“What does all this mean, O’Neil?” he asked sternly.
“These varmints,” pointing to the now trembling prisoners, “have been writing up all kinds of lies for a Japanese paper, and they were trying to make off with this letter.”
The Japanese lieutenant’s face wore a puzzled look; he tried in vain to follow the English of the sailor. Winston turned to him and in simpler language explained the situation.
“I’ll take my men back to the ship,” he ended, bowing, hand to his cap, while the Japanese officer insisted upon shaking both O’Neil and Marley by the hand and thanking them solemnly for their great service to his country.
“Don’t mention it, sir,” O’Neil replied. “I hope you’ll give those white-livered guys there a hot line of Japanese argument. Where I come from there’d be a tar and feather party.”
The Japanese lieutenant smiled again, much puzzled, apologizing that he could speak and understand so little English.
“That’s good, sir,” O’Neil said as he obeyed the signal to embark. “Just don’t understand a word they say, for it won’t be true, anyway. What I’ve told you is the correct dope.”