"Hong Kong," said the officer, and spat over the side.
Hong Kong. Then the game was up; as soon as they set
foot on board they would be seized: the wreck would be
examined, the blood found, the lagoon perhaps dredged,
and the bodies of the dead would reappear to testify.
An impulse almost incontrollable bade Carthew rise from
the thwart, shriek out aloud, and leap overboard; it
seemed so vain a thing to dissemble longer, to dally
with the inevitable, to spin out some hundred seconds
more of agonised suspense, with shame and death thus
visibly approaching. But the indomitable Wicks
persevered. His face was like a skull, his voice
scarce recognisable; the dullest (it seemed) must have
remarked that tell-tale countenance and broken
utterance. And still he persevered, bent upon
certitude.
"Nice place Hong Kong?" he said.
"I'm sure I don't know," said the officer. "Only a day
and a half there; called for orders and came straight
on here. Never heard of such a beastly cruise." And
he went on describing and lamenting the untoward
fortunes of the TEMPEST.
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