Bentley walked back to Marissa and Tristan to explain that the captain was heading toward shore.

“What’s happening?” Tristan questioned. He could tell the crew was agitated.

“We’re heading into one of those little bays along the shore,” Bentley said. “It’s for protection. The captain is afraid that sound we hear might be a PRC patrol boat. He said it couldn’t be a motorized sampan or junk; the engines are too big. He said if it weren’t a PRC boat then it could be pirates.”

“Oh, God!” Marissa said.

They were able to get within a hundred yards of shore before the source of the roar appeared. It was a cigarette boat. It seemed to be coming right toward them. Since most of the mist had evaporated, they could see the boat clearly.

The captain barked another order and both of the crewmen disappeared below. When they reappeared they were brandishing AK47 assault rifles with bandoliers looped over their forearms.

“I don’t like this,” Marissa said. “I don’t like this at all.”

The captain turned to them and yelled. Bentley translated by telling them that the captain had ordered everyone below except his deckhands.

Everyone rushed to obey. Bentley closed the wooden door that led to the foredeck, then joined Marissa and Tristan, who were standing next to the junk’s entrance port. The shore was clearly visible in the early morning light.

“Is it a PRC patrol boat?” Tristan asked Bentley. From where they were standing, they could plainly hear the captain and his men conversing as the boat approached the starboard side of the junk.

“They still don’t know,” Bentley said nervously.

They heard the cigarette boat pull up beside the junk. Its powerful engine rumbled menacingly. Then they heard the captain shout loudly.

“He’s telling them to stand clear,” Bentley translated.

A shouting match developed between the captain and the people on the cigarette boat. Each sounded angry. The apparent dispute went on for some time, and as it did so, Marissa noticed that Bentley became progressively more agitated.

“What are they talking about?” Marissa asked nervously.

“This is very strange,” Bentley said. “The people in the powerboat say they have come for the white devils.”

“What are white devils?” Marissa asked.

“I’m afraid they are talking about you and Tristan,” Bentley said. “But the captain is furious that they have come out here and jeopardized him.”

Marissa grabbed Tristan’s arm. The argument on deck heated up. They watched Bentley’s face, but couldn’t read his expression.

“What’s happening?” Marissa finally asked.

“It doesn’t sound good,” Bentley admitted. “The captain has ordered the powerboat to leave, but the boat refuses to go unless you are given to them or—”

“Or what?” Marissa demanded.

“Or you are shot!” Bentley said. “It is the Wing Sin.”

“Anything you can do?” Tristan gulped.

Bentley shook his head. “Not much at this point,” he said. “I can’t fight the Wing Sin. Besides, the captain took my gun last night. He said he didn’t allow people on his boat to be armed without his say-so.”