d my hand or
gotten my mouth clear so that I might cry an alarm, but in a trice
Yellow Handkerchief was on top of me.

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 out 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