So, sailing and yawing and yulowing, the strange craft flitted off down the river-reaches—what river her captain knew not, but he prayed that it might join the Whangpoo, for near the mouth of the Whangpoo lay Shanghai.
But Mark knew little of the devious ways of Chinese streams. This one had no affiliation whatever with the Whangpoo. It was still winding leisurely toward the Sien Kang. For two foreigners with no map, no compass, total ignorance of the Chinese language, and a strong desire for speed and secrecy to try to reach Shanghai in a native boat from somewhere near Saoshing was certainly utmost folly. Even without a sight of the map, Mark recognized this to be so, but he saw no other solution of their problem. They had no money—nothing but a box of treasure and a few "cash" which they had found in the boat; their own money had been taken from them during that first night. If they could find a European settlement they could get help, Mark knew well, but all the towns and villages they passed presented a discouraging water-front of native
