I carried
important communications for Lee Fu, so went ashore at once. The outer
office was full of gathering gloom, although it was still early
afternoon. Sing Toy immediately took in my name; and soon I was ushered
into the familiar room, where my friend sat beside a shaded lamp, facing
a teakwood desk inlaid with ivory, and invariably bare, save for a
priceless Ming vase and an ornament of old green bronze.
"'I am glad to see you, Captain,' he said dispassionately. 'Sit down. I
have bad news.'
"'Yes?' I queried, more than a little alarmed.
"Folding his hands across his stomach and slightly bowing his head, he
gazed at me with a level upturned glance that, without betraying
expression, carried by its very immobility a hint of deep emotion. 'It
is as I told you,' he said at last. 'Now, perhaps, you will believe.'
"'For heaven's sake, what are you talking about?' I demanded.
"'We had another typhoon this season, a very early one. It was this
typhoon into whose face our late friend Captain Turner took his ship,
the "Speedwell," sailing from Hong Kong for New York some four months
ago. Three days after sailing, he met the typhoon and was blown upon a
lee shore two hundred miles along the China coast. In this predicament,
he cut away his masts and came to anchor.
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