In the cabin Redfox, the first officer, and the Captain sat in earnest conversation.  “Redfox, your wish is fulfilled.  My nephew is on board, but, do you know, now that I have seen the boy—­he so much resembles my poor dear brother when he was his age—­I have not the heart to carry out our plan,” said the Captain.

“Hm, hm,” answered the first officer, stroking his red beard, and giving the Captain a wicked side glance, “hm—­and we have everything so well planned.  It is our only salvation.  Must I repeat the reasons why?”

“It is not necessary; I understand them, but when our salvation is bought at such a price—­shall I say it?—­bought at the price of crime.”

“Mr. Brown, you can do it, and it is not only your salvation, but also mine.—­I am far from planning to sacrifice the half million for which the ‘St. George’ is insured on account of any evasion on your part.  The half million will suffice to pay our debts and give us enough to live on for awhile.  After your brother had the good grace to die just at the right time—­”

“Do not speak to me of his death.  As time goes on I become more and more convinced, Redfox, that you had a hand in his death.”

“Your brother died a natural death,” said the first officer with a lowering look; “and even if that were not the case, the most of the suspicion would fall on you instead of me.  And so surely as I stand here, I swear to you, that if you upset my plan I’ll manage matters so you’ll be condemned as the murderer of your brother.  Since his death nothing stands in our way except this boy.  Now, if he should—­accidentally—­follow in the footsteps of his father, he would surely go to heaven, that is, if what the priests teach is true.  If he does not die now in the days of his innocence, ten chances to one, he will grow up to be as reckless and worthless as ourselves.  It would be the greatest luck imaginable for him, if now—­by chance, of course,—­he were to make his journey to heaven.”

“True, most true.  I wish that I had died when I was his age,” groaned the Captain.

“You leave all with me.  The boy is on board.  That is enough—­”

CHAPTER IV.

With the Priest of the God of the Golden Fish.

On the south side of the island of Hongkong are a number of small villages occupied by fishermen.  Any one of these hidden away under the shade of the great bamboos may be taken as a type of all the others.  The little houses have roofs made of reeds and bundles of twigs, but these do not serve so well for protection from wind and weather as the thick foliage of the overhanging trees.  On the beach fishing nets are spread to dry; and in the calm waters of the little bay a number of poor old junks ride lazily at anchor.  One of these is drawn up on the shore and the men are examining the haul of fish just brought in.  Women and children with baskets and buckets are hurrying