He had been at work since six o’clock, it seemed, on the ratlines, and he was now overhauling all the standing rigging. That done, they attacked the running.

In the middle of these operations it began to dawn on them that they were observed. Sometimes there was quite a little group on the wharf watching and criticising. George noticed it first.

“How the devil have they got to know the whereabouts of the boat?” asked George. “The papers said nothing about Sullivan’s Wharf.”

“It’s Jake,” said Hank. “He’ll have been all over the wharves talking; take a pull on that halyard. Lord, these blocks will never do, I’ll have to go hunt in the sail-room to see if I can’t turn out some better. What’s the time? Getting on for one? Well, I’ve got some grub down below and I vote we have a bite, and after that, if you don’t mind, will you skip ashore to the club and see if there’s any letters for me. I’m expecting a business letter from N’ York about a patent I’ve got an interest in.”

“Right,” said George.

The galley of the Wear Jack was well fitted up. Jake had done his cooking there and had left half a can of kerosene behind him. Hank had got eggs and a great chunk of bacon from somewhere out of the blue, and there was the remains of last night’s German sausage. In a few minutes the frying57 pan was shouting over a Primus stove and Hank, in his shirt sleeves, was directing George. There was a let-down table in the galley and plates and knives and forks in a locker.

57

“I’ve overhauled the crockery and table and bed linen,” said Hank. “Did it last night. There’s enough on board for a family—pass me your plate. We’ll have a Chink for cook.”

“How about the crew?”

“Time enough about them—maybe we’ll have Chinks.”

To George, pondering as he ate, suddenly came the fact that Vanderdecken—the Dutchman—Dutch Pete, or whatever his name might be, certainly had behind him a crew of the same colour as himself, coupled with the fact that a crew of Chinks wouldn’t be of the same fighting colour as Vanderdecken’s lot.

He said so.

“Oh, it won’t come to fighting,” said Hank. “If it did I can hit a dollar with an automatic at twenty-five paces once a second, and I’ll learn you to do the same—but it won’t. We’ve got to take 

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