Not daring to wade
upright, on account of the noise made by floundering and by the
suck of the mud, I remained lying down in the mud and propelled
myself over its surface by means of my hands. Still keeping the
trail made by the Chinese in going from and to the junk, I held on
until I reached the water. Into this I waded to a depth of three
feet, and then I turned off to the side on a line parallel with the
beach.
The thought came to me of going toward Yellow Handkerchief's skiff
and escaping in it, but at that very moment he returned to the
beach, and, as though fearing the very thing I had in mind, he
slushed out through the mud to assure himself that the skiff was
safe. This turned me in the opposite direction. Half swimming,
half wading, with my head just out of water and avoiding splashing,
I succeeded in putting about a hundred feet between myself and the
spot where the Chinese had begun to wade ashore from the junk. I
drew myself out on the mud and remained lying flat.
Again Yellow Handkerchief returned to the beach and made a search
of the island, and again he returned to the heap of clam-shells.
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