The Sulu Queen was steaming south at an eight-knot clip, which for her was exceedingly good, bound for Macassar, Singapore and way ports, according to the dispensation of Providence. Her tail shaft was likely to go at any minute; she had an erratic list to starboard; her pumps could barely keep down the water that seeped through her loose plates; but she was going. Just to be going was an achievement for the Sulu Queen. She was certain not to be going for very long.  
Her Macaense—or Portuguese Eurasian—skipper was enjoying an opium dream in his cabin. Her chief engineer, a one-eyed Cyclops who had long since buried his Glasgow accent under a maze of tropic profanity, was dead drunk. Her black gang was composed of Macao coolies. Her men forward were lascars, under a mild-eyed Malay serang who was an escaped murderer from Bilibid Prison. Her two quartermasters were Chinese, and efficient. Her supercargo was a Straits Chinese comprador, a Singapore man. Her mate was a hulking Dutchman, rotten with gin alow and aloft. Her second mate was Jim Barnes, for whose labor all these others drew pay.
 
She carried nine passengers. Abdullah, an Arab merchant, was going home to Macassar, taking with him his first wife and five offspring. How the Slave of God, as his name bore witness, ever got to Canton with so many, was a mystery; what had become of the other three lawful wives, not to mention the unlawful ones, was a greater mystery. The other two passengers were Nora Sayers and Ellen Maggs.
 
They were missionaries of some kind in China, had been ordered to voyage for their health, and as their funds were low, had taken the Sulu Queen. Jim Barnes had been too busy to ask questions. He would have welcomed them on the bridge, except that the Dutchman and the chief were both up there, nearly naked and rather soused. They had been there in that condition since leaving Cantop. When he explained the matter to them, Ellen Maggs blushed faintly, and Nora Sayers was quite willing to come along anyhow; but Ellen prevailed.
 
At two bells in the morning watch, Jim Barnes heaved a huge sigh of relief and left the bridge, which he had perforce held since before midnight. The islands were past; Simonor was dropping astern into the horizon and ahead was the open Celebes Sea and a clear course for Macassar. By some miracle the coral reefs had been evaded.
 
Jim Barnes sought the galley and obtained some tea from the yellow cook. He gulped it down and then started for his own cabin, meaning to get some sleep. The quartermaster of his watch had the bridge and a fair course.
 
Then, at the door af his stateroom, he paused with a sudden oath. The course was south by a quarter east; to his amazement, Barnes discovered that the ship was swinging around until the sun was almost astern.
 
With another oath of weary, wondering disgust, he started for the ladder. As he touched it, he heard his name spoken, and glanced around. The other quartermaster, Li Fu by name, was gliding toward him, and the yellow face was gleaming with inward excitement.
 
"What is it?" demanded Barnes.
 
"Maste', you watch out velly sha'p!" exclaimed Li Fu, low-voiced, tense. "Bad piecee bobbery kick up, mebbeso two bells this afte'noon! I think mebbeso all hands talkee-talkee make fo' mutiny. Cap'n he say fo' tell you come see him."
 
"You tell the skipper to go to hell," said Barnes. "Opium crazy, that's what he is. Mutiny. Good gosh, we've nothing to mutiny for!"
 
"Cap'n he say head in fo' Sesajap," persisted the Chinaman.
 
Jim Barnes groaned. "Head in for Sesajap, eh? Heading in for Borneo—the skipper changed the course, did he? That why we're turning?"
 
Li Fu nodded, beady eyes alert.
 
"Well, I've no time now to palaver with that cursed Eurasian topside," said Barnes bluntly. "You tell him to take the bridge or chase Vanderhoof up there—I'm done. Savvy? I'm going to sleep. Let everybody mutiny and be damned. I'm the only seaman aboard this cursed packet anyhow. I'm tired o' doing ten men's work. Trouble coming this afternoon, is it? Then let afternoon take care of itself. I'll be ready to take the deck after this watch is over—noon. And, listen! Tell the cap'n that if he don't shoot the sun and verify his position after this running around, he'll land us all in hell. You savvy that? Then tell him from me. And if he wants to run us into Borneo, let him do it!"
 
Li Fu grinned delightedly and stated that he savvied plenty. He, like any efficient seaman, had no use for the other officers and regarded Jim Barnes as a little tin god. Jim Barnes went into his cabin, locked the door, stuck a chair under the knob, and then dropped on his bunk, dead to the world.
 
 
 
Down in the engine-room, where the heat had sent the chief into a drunken stupor, the Malay serang conferred with the two assistant engineers. They were both men of color, being Macaense like the skipper, but not, like him, owning a large share in the Sulu Queen. Filling his mouth with betel paste, expectorating a scarlet stream across the floor under the ladder, the serang spoke as he squatted there with the two engineers.
 
"The supercargo, Lim Tock, is a very clever man. He has arranged everything into shares; there will be one hundred shares made of everything. Fifty of these will be divided among the men, the other fifty among us, the officers."
 
"Good," assented the second engineer. "How many are in it, Gajah?"
 
Gajah, the serang, spat again, and his soft eyes glowed luminously.
 
"All the men, here and above. The wireless man, the two quartermasters, Tuan Barnes, and the cap'n must be killed. Tuan Vanderhoof will navigate the ship. He is a great coward, and after his feet are burned he will be glad to serve us. This chief engineer must be killed, too. Six altogether. You will attend to this chief."
 
The two Eurasians looked at each other, then at the supinely snoring figure of the chief. They grinned and nodded. The chief would be drunk again after tiffin.
 
"You are sure of the men?" asked the third.
 
"Of course," said Gajah. "Lim Tock shipped them carefully at Canton, and my own men are picked for the purpose."
 
"Why has the course been changed?" demanded the second engineer.
 
"Because I whispered into the ear of the cap'n," said Gajah, with a meditative smile. "I told him that I knew a chief at one of the islands in the mouth of the Sesajap River, who had a great deal of gold dust, many birds' nests, and some fine pearls and shell. The tuan cap'n is very greedy. He changed the course immediately."
 
"Is there such a man?" asked the third. Gajah grinned in derision.
 
"Why not? Once I knew such a man at Sibuko, which is not far away. He was the second cousin of my elder brother's third wife, and he was very rich. I went to visit him, and induced his youngest wife to run away with me. But she forgot to bring the pearls with her, being in love with me, and so I slew her. That happened in Manila, and they put me into prison because of it. The white tuans did not understand."
 
"Well, when is this to take place?" asked the second engineer nervously.
 
"At the striking of two bells in the next watch."
 
"It shall be done. Who is to command, after that?"
 
"The supercargo, Lim Tock," answered the serang. "He is very clever. A friend of his, also a member of the Lim family, is to meet us near Bunju Island with a junk of which he is cap'n. Since the arrangement is all Lim Tock's, he deserves to command. It was he who got the opium put aboard at Macao."
 
"One thing," put in the third, his dark and muddy eyes gleaming. "The two white women! Surely they are not to be killed?"
 
"One does not waste the gifts of Allah," said Gajah sententiously. "The one with yellow hair goes to me; the other, who blushes often and whose figure is that of the willow, will comfort Lim Tock for the loss of his eldest son, who was hanged by the English last month for killing a white tuan. After a little while we shall sell them to chiefs along the coast, and so be rid of them. Wallah! It is hot down here."
 
He arose, knotted his fine silk sarong more closely about his waist, loosened his shagreen-hilted kris in its sheath, and departed. They two engineers looked at each other, and a slow smile passed between them.
 
"She of the yellow hair," said the third reflectively, "is tall and strong, of high spirit, and a fitting mate for me, whose veins run with the proud blood of the da Soussas!"
 
"And she of the lissome body," said the second engineer, rubbing his bristly chin, "has ere now smiled very sweetly upon me. It is not proper that yellow and brown island scum should have precedence before us, men descended from the conquistadors!"
 
"I agree with you," responded the other. "But what are we to do?"
 
"First secure the ship," said the second promptly. "Then secure—what we want."
 
"Good!" agreed the third engineer with emphasis. "Let us consider the matter."
 
 
 
Meantime, in the chart-house Li Fu had delivered the second mate's message to the befuddled skipper, who sat dreamily over his charts. The message was literally delivered, but it could not stir the captain into action. He was lost in the reverie of contemplation that comes of good opium; not actual dreams, as some think, but a complacent sweetishness in the mind that shoves aside all immediate problems and refuses to take a crisis seriously.
 
The captain, indeed, was a lost soul. Usually your opium-eater cannot smoke the drug at all, and the smoker cannot attain Nirvana by eating it. This Macaense, however, both ate and smoked, thereby letting damnation into himself by two channels. He was a thin, pasty man, once of powerful physique, but now rather rickety on his pins.
 
"One hundred and seventy miles to the mouth of the Sesajap," he murmured. "We shall reach it at five o'clock tomorrow morning."
 
He gave over thinking and plucked vacuously at his thin mustaches.
 
"Providing the engines hold," added Li Fu, who spoke better Portuguese than English. "If the night is clear, there will be a new moon. We should sight the coast by midnight."
 
"The engines!" repeated the skipper. "Where is the chief? He was here an hour ago."
 
"He went below, sir. The mate woke up and went into the wheel-house."
 
"Bring him here, Li Fu."
 
The quartermaster went out of the chart-house, presently to return alone.
 
"He is asleep, sir. We cannot wake him."
 
"Drunk, eh? Never mind, never mind. I will take the observation myself at noon—
 
"And at two bells, sir," reminded Li Fu cautiously.
 
"Oh, you are a fool, Quartermaster! These men will not mutiny. There is no reason for it. You are not used to Lascars and must not be a fool. I shall go to rest and make ready my instruments. The course is to be held as it is."
 
The captain rose and, with a sigh of relief that no more duty presented itself, made his way back to his cabin.
 
Li Fu studied the outspread chart and lighted a cigarette. After a while, the other quartermaster left the wheel lashed and came into the chart-house, also lighting a cigarette. The two men greeted each other quietly. Like Li Fu, Quartermaster Hi John was a stalwart, efficient seaman, calm and well poised. He addressed Li Fu in the Cantonese dialect.
 
"You told him, Li?"
 
"I told him," said Li Fu. "He went to sleep. He was very weary."
 
"Did you find out why the captain changed the course?"
 
"No. He thinks more about his hap toi than about what I ask him. I woke up the chief and told him, but he was too drunk to understand. He asked if there was no help for the widow's son, and went to sleep again. His mind is gone."
 
"The second mate will fight," said Hi John thoughtfully.
 
"If he is not slain before he gets a chance."
 
"There remains the wireless officer."
 
"True. He remains."
 
The two men looked at each other and smiled mirthlessly. The wireless man was the privileged son of a Macaense, chief owner of the Sulu Queen. Cumshaw had obtained his berth; he did not know one end of the wireless from another, as the quartermasters had learned when Jim Barnes cursed him for an idiotic fool. He was no better than an idiot; he was, indeed, some degrees worse, since the diseased degeneracy of Asia was his heritage.
 
"Then you and I are alone," said Hi John.
 
"We are alone. What answer shall we make to Lim Tock when the time comes?"
 
Hi John extinguished his cigarette.
 
"Duty is a shining star, Li Fu. I have a revolver in my bag."
 
"I have one also," said Li Fu. "Yet I do not want to swallow gold."
 
"Nor I; this life is good." Hi John lighted another cigarette. "Still, consider duty! Lim Tock is a terrible man. It was he who sank the Dutch steamer last year, before his son was hung. His son helped him. They each got two Dutch women and much money. If we do not join him, Li, I think that we shall both swallow gold."
 
"Yes. Then you join him."
 
"Oh, no." Hi John's singsong tones were soft. "Oh, no! I did not mean that."
 
Li Fu looked slightly ironic. "You think this ship worth dying for? Or those white women beautiful enough to die for?"
 
"Not at all," said Hi John. "The ship is a rotten hulk. The women are ugly and pale as ghosts. I care nothing what becomes of either. At the same time, I revere the wisdom of my paternal parent, who was also an officer in a ship. Before he swallowed gold, he asked me to take an oath, that I would never swerve from my duty. Therefore I cannot well join Lim Tock, since I undertook a certain duty aboard this ship."
 
"That is true," said Li Fu. "I have no oath to restrain me, but my duty needs no oath. Therefore I agree with you fully. I shall get my revolver, and also yours, while you are on the bridge; I have had it two rice-years, but it is a good one."
 
"Very well," said Hi John. "Give me mine when you have the opportunity."
 
 
 
While these two men talked on the bridge-deck, Lim Tock, the super-cargo, walked aft on the main-deck, past the dingy passenger-cabins where the brood of Abdullah swarmed about the two "missionary ladies." Lim Tock was an elderly Straits Chinaman, with a short, gray mustache, a drawn, parchment face, and two bright and glittering gray eyes—a most amazing pair of eyes to be staring from a saffron face! Yet some Chinese are gray-eyed.
 
In the stern, he came upon Abdullah, the Arab merchant, who was reading a Koran. The Arab looked up, smiled slightly, and spoke in the Low Malay which most men use in the island seas. This Slave of God was a thin and deadly looking person, fierce with his hook nose and jutting shreds of beard and jetty eyes.
 
"All is arranged?"
 
"It is arranged," said Lim Tock. "You agree to take the white women off our hands?"
 
"Yes; and to ask no other share of the rewards."
 
Lim Tock inclined his head and passed on around to the starboard passage. There he came upon Gajah, the serang, busy doing nothing. To him Lim Tock spoke in High Malay, a tongue which very few men know or understand, even in the island seas.
 
"Abdullah suspects nothing. His boxes will be rich plunder. Let him be the first to fall, and his children after him—a clean sweep."
 
"And the woman, his wife?" asked the Lascar serang.
 
"She has borne many and is past pleasing. Let her accompany Abdullah."
 
The serang nodded indifferently and Lim Tock went his way.
 
While men thus talked and schemed and counseled together alow and aloft, Jim Barnes slept.