himself, got his balance and so placed his bundle on the
bottom of the boat and his book upon the seat, where he covered it
carefully against the spray.

"All litee," said he once more. "I makee pull now. You come this
place."

I endeavored to emulate his Oriental calm. "John," said I, "I catchee
plenty wind this time."

"Yes, plenty wind," said he.

"You suppose we leave China boy?" I demanded.

"Oh, no, no!" he exclaimed with emphasis. "I know you come back allee
time bimeby, one time."

"What were you doing, John?"

"I leed plenty 'Melican book," said he calmly. "Now I makee pull." To
oblige him I made way for him, and we crawled past each other on the
floor of the heaving dingey. He took the oars and began pulling with
an odd chopping sort of a stroke, perhaps learned in his youth on some
sampan that rode the waters of his native land; but for my own part,
since Fate seemed to be kind to me after all, I trusted his skill,
such as it was, and was willing to rest for a time.

"No velly bad," said John judicially, after a time. "Pretty soon come
in." No doubt he saw the little fire, now beginning to light the
beach. At any rate, he headed straight in, the seas following, reeling
after us. They have their own ways, these people of the East. I fancy
John had run surf before. At any rate, I knew the water now was
shallow and that, perhaps, one could swim ashore if we were overset. I
trusted him to make the landing, however, and he did it like a
veteran. One plunge through the ultimate white crest, and we were
carried up high on the beach, to meet the shouts of my men and to feel
their hands grasp the gunwales of the sturdy little craft.

"All litee," remarked John amiably, and started for the fire, such
being his instinct, not with the purpose of getting warm, but of
cooking something. And in half an hour he had a cup of hot bouillon
all around.

"It's a commendable thing," remarked Mrs. Daniver, "that you, sir,
should go to the rescue of even a humble Chinaman. I find this
bouillon delicious."

"Have you quite recovered from your seasickness by this time, Mrs.
Daniver?" I asked politely.

"Seasickness?" She raised an eyebrow in protest. "I never was seasick
in my life--not even in the roughest crossings of the Channel, where
others were quite helpless."

"It is fortunate to be immune," said I. "People tell me it is a
terrible feeling--they even think they are going to die."

Jean Lafitte, I found, had