best of it, as she plodded along grimly toward Honolulu.
Mark and Alan met in the first dog-watch to discuss the perils of the night and their share in them. If Alan remembered his wild mood in the wireless-room, he kept silence concerning it, for Mark would have scoffed. They leaned idly at the rail, talking now of the engine trouble, now of the eternal topic of their plans on reaching China.
A shadow fell across Mark's shoulder, and they turned to see Chun Lon, in his white duck coat and Chinese shoes, shuffling silently along the deck. He approached them with an ingratiating smile and folded his thin yellow hands demurely before him.
"You like nice cup of tea?" he inquired.
"No, thanks," Mark retorted briefly.
"Pletty ti'ed," Chun Lon continued. "Ship no sleep last night. I make you one nice tiny cup of tea velly soon."
"We don't want any tea, I tell you," Mark said, turning around.
Chun Lon sighed and dropped to a squatting attitude near the boys.
