gin' ship,
ain't no good for this sort of work, sea-bottom scrapin' is all she's
good for, and little she makes at it. The other's the _Port of
Amsterdam_, owned by Gunderman. She's the ship they'd use; she's got
steam winches and derricks 'nough to discharge the Ark, and stowage
room to hold the cargo down to the last flea, but she's no good for
more than eight knots; she steams like as if she'd a drogue behind her,
because why?--she's got beam engines--she's that old, she's got beam
engines in her. I'm not denyin' there's somethin' to be said for them,
but, there you are, there's no speed in them."

"Well, beam engines or no beam engines, we'll have a pretty rough time
if she comes down and catches us within a cable's length of the
_Yan-Shan_," said Blood. "However, there's no use in fetching trouble;
let's go and have a look at the lazaret, I want to see how we stand for
grub."

Chop-stick Charlie was the name Blood had christened the coolie who
acted as steward and cabin hand. He called him now, and out of the
opium-tinctured gloom of the fo'c'sle Charlie appeared, received his
orders and led them to the lazaret.

None of the crew had shown the slightest emotion on seeing Blood take
over command of the schooner and Ginnell swabbing decks. The fight,
that had made Blood master of the _Heart of Ireland_ and Ginnell's
revolver, had occurred in the cabin and out of sight of the coolies,
but even had it been conducted in full view of them, it is doubtful
whether they would have shown any feeling or lifted a hand in the
matter.

As long as their little privileges were regarded, as long as opium
bubbled in the evening pipe, and pork, rice and potatoes were served
out, one white skipper was the same as another to them.

The overhaul of the stores took half an hour and was fairly
satisfactory, and, when they came, on deck, Blood, telling Charlie to
take Ginnell's place as lookout, called the latter down into the cabin.

"We want to have a word with you," said Blood, whilst Harman took his
seat on a bunk edge opposite him.

"It's time you knew our minds and what we intend doing with the
schooner and yourself."

"Faith," said Ginnell, "I think it is."

"I'm glad you agree. Well, when you shanghaied me on board this old
shark-boat of yours, there's little doubt as to what you intended doing
with me. Harman will tell you, for we've talked on the matter."

"He'd a' worked you crool hard, fed you crool bad, an