“It’s just when we come alongside the Yan-Shan we may find our worst bother,” said Blood.

“Which way?” asked Harman.

“Well, they’re pretty sure to send some sort of a wrecking expedition to try and salve some of the cargo, let alone those dollars.”

“See here,” said Harman, “I had the news from Clancy that morning, and it had only just come to ’Frisco, it wasn’t an hour old; we put the cap on Ginnell and were out of the Golden Gate before sundown same day.  A wrecking ship would take all of two days to get her legs under her, supposing anyone bought the wreck, so we have two days’ start; we’ve been makin’ seven knots and maybe a bit over, they won’t make more.  So we have two days to our good when we get there.”

“They may start a quick ship out on the job,” said Blood.

“Well, now, there’s where my knowledge comes in,” said Harman.  “There’s only two salvage ships at present in ’Frisco, and rotten tubs they are.  One’s the Maryland, she’s most a divin’ and dredgin’ 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.