I struggled around to no purpose in the bottom of the junk, while my legs and arms were tied and my mouth securely bound in what I afterward found to be a cotton shirt.  Then I was left lying in the bottom.  Yellow Handkerchief took the tiller, issuing his orders in whispers; and from our position at the time, and from the alteration of the sail, which I could dimly make out above me as a blot against the stars, I knew the junk was being headed into the mouth of a small slough which emptied at that point into San Rafael Creek.

In a couple of minutes we ran softly alongside the bank, and the sail was silently lowered.  The Chinese kept very quiet.  Yellow Handkerchief sat down in the bottom alongside of me, and I could feel him straining to repress his raspy, hacking cough.  Possibly seven or eight minutes later I heard Charley’s voice as the Reindeer went past the mouth of the slough.

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am,” I could plainly hear him saying to Neil, “that the lad has finished with the fish patrol without accident.”

Here Neil said something which I could not catch, and then Charley’s voice went on: 

“The youngster takes naturally to the water, and if when he finishes high school he takes a course in navigation and goes deep sea, I see no reason why he shouldn’t rise to be master of the finest and biggest ship afloat.”

It was all very flattering to me, but lying there, bound and gagged by my own prisoners, with the voices growing faint and fainter as the Reindeer slipped on through the darkness toward San Rafael, I must say I was not in quite the proper situation to enjoy my smiling future.  With the Reindeer went my last hope.  What was to happen next I could not imagine, for the Chinese were a different race from mine and from what I knew I was confident that fair play was no part of their make-up.

After waiting a few minutes longer, the crew hoisted the lateen sail, and Yellow Handkerchief steered down toward the mouth of San Rafael Creek.  The tide was getting lower, and he had difficulty in escaping the mud-banks.  I was hoping he would run aground, but he succeeded in making the bay without accident.

As we passed out of the creek a noisy discussion arose, which I knew related to me.  Yellow Handkerchief was vehement, but the other four as vehemently opposed him.  It was very evident that he advocated doing away with me and that they were afraid of the consequences.  I was familiar enough with the Chinese character to know that fear alone restrained them.  But what plan they offered in place of Yellow Handkerchief’s murderous one, I could not make out.

My feelings, as my fate hung in the balance, may be guessed.  The discussion developed into a quarrel, in the midst of which Yellow Handkerchief unshipped the heavy tiller and sprang toward me.  But his four companions threw themselves between, and a clumsy struggle took place for possession of the tiller.  In the end Yellow Handkerchief was overcome, and sullenly returned to the steering, while they soundly berated him for his rashness.