“Up your mains'l,” ordered Moran. The pair set the fore and main sails with great difficulty. Moran took the wheel and Wilbur went forward to cast off the line by which the schooner had been tied up to one of the whale's flukes. “Cut it!” cried the girl. “Don't stop to cast off.” There was a hail from the beach-combers; the port sweeps dipped and the junk bore up nearer. “Hurry!” shouted Moran, “don't mind them. Are we clear for'ard--what's the trouble? Something's holding her.” The schooner listed slowly to starboard and settled by the head. “All clear!” cried Wilbur. “There's something wrong!” exclaimed Moran; “she's settling for'ard.” Hoang hailed the schooner a second time. “We're still settling,” called Wilbur from the bows, “what's the matter?” “Matter that she's taking water,” answered Moran wrathfully. “She's started something below, what with all that lifting and dancing and tricing up.” Wilbur ran back to the quarterdeck. “This is a bad fix,” he said to Moran. “Those chaps are coming aboard again. They're on to something, and, of course, at just this moment she begins to leak.” “They are after that ambergris,” said Moran between her teeth. “Smelled it, of course--the swine!” “Ambergris?” “The stuff we found in the whale. That's ambergris.” “Well?” “Well!” shouted Moran, exasperated. “Do you know that we have found a lump that will weigh close to 250 pounds, and do you know that ambergris is selling in San Francisco at $40 an ounce? Do you know that we have picked up nearly $150,000 right out here in the ocean and are in a fair way to lose it all?” “Can't we run for it?” “Run for it in a boat that's taking water like a sack! Our dory's gone. Suppose we get clear of the junk, and the 'Bertha' sank? Then what? If we only had our crew aboard; if we were only ten to their dozen--if we were only six--by Jupiter! I'd fight them for it.” The two enormous red eyes of the junk loomed alongside and stared over into the “Bertha's” waist. Hoang and seven of the coolies swarmed aboard. “What now?” shouted Moran, coming forward to meet them, her scowl knotting her flashing eyes together. “Is this ship yours or mine? We've done your dirty work for you. I want you clear of my deck.” Wilbur stood at her side, uncertain what to do, but ready for anything she should attempt. “I tink you catchum someting, smellum pretty big,” said Hoang, his ferret glance twinkling about the schooner. “I catchum nothing--nothing but plenty bad stink,” said Moran. “No, you don't!” she exclaimed, putting herself in Hoang's way as he made for the cabin. The other beach-combers came crowding up; Wilbur even thought he saw one of them loosening his hatchet in his belt. “This ship's mine,” cried Moran, backing to the cabin door. Wilbur followed her, and the Chinamen closed down upon the pair. “It's not much use, Moran,” he muttered. “They'll rush us in a minute.”