r, but that is not the view we should take if we encountered
a vessel relatively as big as the _Sirdar_ was to the unfortunate
junk."

"But," persisted the lawyer, "what would have been the result?"

"You would never have known that the incident had happened, Sir John."

"In other words, the poor despairing Chinamen, clinging to their little
craft with some chance of escape, would be quietly murdered to suit our
convenience."

It was Iris's clear voice that rang out this downright exposition of
the facts. Sir John shook his head; he carried the discussion no
further.

The hours passed in tedious misery after Captain Ross's visit. Every
one was eager to get a glimpse of the unknown terrors without from the
deck. This was out of the question, so people sat around the tables to
listen eagerly to Experience and his wise saws on drifting ships and
their prospects.

Some cautious persons visited their cabins to secure valuables in case
of further disaster. A few hardy spirits returned to bed.

Meanwhile, in the charthouse, the captain and chief officer were
gravely pondering over an open chart, and discussing a fresh risk that
loomed ominously before them. The ship was a long way out of her usual
course when the accident happened. She was drifting now, they
estimated, eleven knots an hour, with wind, sea, and current all
forcing her in the same direction, drifting into one of the most
dangerous places in the known world, the south China Sea, with its
numberless reefs, shoals, and isolated rocks, and the great island of
Borneo stretching right across the path of the cyclone.

Still, there was nothing to be done save to make a few unobtrusive
preparations and trust to idle chance. To attempt to anchor and ride
out the gale in their present position was out of the question.

Two, three, four o'clock came, and went. Another half-hour would
witness the dawn and a further clearing of the weather. The barometer
was rapidly rising. The center of the cyclone had swept far ahead.
There was only left the aftermath of heavy seas and furious but
steadier wind.

Captain Ross entered the charthouse for the twentieth time.

He had aged many years in appearance. The smiling, confident, debonair
officer was changed into a stricken, mournful man. He had altered with
his ship. The _Sirdar_ and her master could hardly be recognized,
so cruel were the blows they had received.

"It is impossible to see a yard ahead," he confided to h