Charles saw Fu's eyes light up.
“Thank you,” Charles said. “We left in a hurry before sunrise and didn't pack any supplies besides water. We're starving.”
“Come below, then,” Captain Rutger said. “We shall set you up straightaway.”
As they crossed the deck, Charles watched Hok, Fu, and Malao marvel over what they saw. There were innumerable sheets, stays, ratlines, and ropes running in every direction, connecting the schooner's three towering masts to rows of reefed sails. Weathered sailors lounged about, darning socks or smoking cigars, and caged chickens and rabbits darted within their on-deck enclosures under the watchful eye of the ship's goat, whose sole purpose was to provide milk each morning for the officers’ tea.
How Charles missed seafaring life. It was like having an entire city squeezed into a space not much larger than an average house. It made him feel secure.
They climbed belowdecks and weaved their way through rows of hammocks filled with sleeping men. These men would make up the second watch, and Charles recognized a few of the bearded faces. He looked forward to catching up with them.
As they neared Captain Rutger's cabin, Charles detected the smell of bacon. His mouth began to water and his stomach growled. Fu turned to him with eager eyes and said, “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yes, it is,” Charles replied happily. “I hope you don't mind bacon for dinner. Considering all those chickens on deck, we'll likely have fresh eggs, too. We typically eat this combination for breakfast, and it might seem a little odd.”
Fu grinned. “Any man who serves breakfast food for dinner is a friend of mine!”
Captain Rutger laughed, and he led them into his private dining cabin, just aft of his living quarters. In the center of the room was a large table hanging from a series of ropes, designed to accommodate the ship's sway. Several benches were nailed to the floor around it. Fortunately, none of these precautions would be necessary while they were in the calm waters of the cove.
“This is neat!” Malao said, giving the swinging table a shove.
“So it is,” Captain Rutger said. “Please, sit down and tell me what brings you here. I hope it wasn't to see Captain Henrik. He left this morning with most of our squadron to conduct some business in Taiwan.”
Captain Rutger gave Hok a curious look as they all sat, and Charles thought he saw Hok blush.
“Why are you looking at me that way, sir?” Hok asked. “Do you know me?”
“I believe I do,” Captain Rutger replied. “Your appearance is an interesting combination of two people I respect greatly. Namely, Captain Henrik and his strong, beautiful wife, Bing. You wouldn't happen to be OnYeen, would you?”
“I am,” Hok replied. “Only, I am called ‘Hok’ now. These are my temple brothers, Fu and Malao. We are here because Charles thought you might give us refuge for a few nights. We have reason to believe that a general from the north known as Tonglong is looking for us.”
“That sounds serious,” Captain Rutger said.
“It is,” Hok replied. “We don't intend to stay long, though. We've been discussing it, and we hope to find a way to get back to the north to join up with my mother and other members of a group that some call ‘bandits’ but others call ‘the Resistance.’ My brothers and I all have friends or family in the group, including another temple brother, a boy called Seh.”
“I see,” said Captain Rutger. “Charles did the right thing bringing you here. You will be safe. If you feel you can wait five or six days, so much the better. Your father will have returned by then, and I would bet my right arm that he will personally take you to your friends—that is, unless you would prefer to remain here with him for a while. The political climate is much more stable in this region, and I am certain your father would enjoy spending some time with all of you.”
“We don't wish to inconvenience anyone,” Hok said.
“Nonsense,” Captain Rutger said. “Nothing would please me more. I have some knowledge of what the three of you have been through, including the destruction of your temple and your flight down the Grand Canal with that horrible creature Ying. I respect your courage, Hok.”
“Ying isn't what he appears to be on the surface,” Hok said in a cool tone. “How did you learn about these things?”
Captain Rutger raised his hands. “I am sorry if I've offended you. Our main source of intelligence concerning you and a host of other matters is a man called HukJee, a powerful black-market dealer in the northern city of Jinan. We intercept weapons shipments intended for a local warlord called HaiZhe here in the south and sell them to HukJee in the north. He pays us with information as often as he pays us with gold. We work almost exclusively with him, because we know he sells nearly all of his weapons to the Resistance. As you know, they oppose the Emperor's habit of living extravagantly while taxing the life out of China's poorest citizens. While we come from another land, we support their cause. And since we need to earn a living, this seems as honorable an occupation as any.”