CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.
GETTING WARM.
The men were in high glee, and, had they not been checked, would have sent the boat spinning up the river, in their delight to escape from the monotony of harbour-life, and the natural love there is in Englishmen for a bit of sport.
"Steady, my lads," said Mr Brooke quietly.

"Just give her headway, and back water the moment I speak." I did not hear what one of the men whispered to his messmate, but I saw his face as he leaned forward, and it certainly suggested to me that he said-- "They mean some of the tame ducks to make sure." "No, we do not, my man," said Mr Brooke, and I stared at him in astonishment, that he should have taken the same idea as I had.
The man coloured through his tan, and Mr Brooke; said in a low voice to me-- "Our work's cut out, Herrick; how are we to pick out the right two junks from all this crowd ?" "I don't know, sir," I said.

"But I don't fancy they would be down here where other people might talk about them.

I should think they would be up the river." "Well, we must find them, my lad, so use our brains as much as you can, and if you see a junk with a very evil-looking lot aboard, just give me a hint as we pass." "I'll ask Ching what he thinks, sir." Mr Brooke nodded, and I turned to the interpreter, who was squatting in the bottom of the boat right aft, his eyes half shut, and apparently taking no heed of anything.
"How are we to know which are the junks we want, Ching ?" I said.
"Oh, velly soon find," he said.

"Ching look along.