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any of the ports they had passed. While it would have been easy to sail into any one of them, the prevailing winds would have prevented them from sailing back out. Moreover, once they had left the sea and begun to head up the Yellow River, Charles’ determination to stay away from the waterside towns had only grown stronger.
    Hok had to settle for the next best thing, which was stopping somewhere both she and Charles knew to be safe that also had the supplies Hok wanted. She knew the perfect place: the home of an elderly healer called PawPaw, or Grandmother. It was along their route to the Jade Phoenix in the city of Kaifeng, and from Charles’ estimation they would arrive very soon.
    As Charles’ sloop cut a smooth swath up the Yellow River’s fast-moving current, Long sat with his back against the boat’s side rail. Like the others, he spent most of his time scanning the area for trouble. There was plenty of scenery but very few people, and consequently no conflicts. Steep banks of yellow earth shouldered both sides of the river in this region, covered with a matting of dead grass and dried, broken reed stalks. The trees were nearly leafless, their skeleton frames shaking in the chilly breeze. Fortunately, Charles had several blankets in his sea chest to keep them all warm. They would have to acquire jackets,boots, hats, and gloves once they reached Kaifeng. They were now in the north, after all, and snow was not unheard of this time of year.
    They rounded a bend in the river, and Charles pointed to the shore. “There it is,” he said, his finger aimed at a small house perched atop the riverbank. “It looks different now that the leaves have fallen.”
    “It sure does,” Hok said. “I see smoke drifting from the chimney, though. It seems someone is home.”
    “That’s g-g-great,” Malao stammered from the mast top, his teeth chattering. “I c-c-can’t wait to warm up!” He quickly untied a few ropes and coiled them up, then scurried down the mast, onto the deck, stopping next to Charles. “All c-c-clear, C-C-Captain.”
    “Thanks, Malao,” Charles said, looking up at the mast top. “I couldn’t have done better myself. Can you give me a hand with the mainsail?”
    “S-s-sure,” Malao replied.
    Charles nodded and turned to Hok and Xie. “When the big sail starts to come down, could you two do your best to grab it?”
    “Of course,” they replied.
    “Very good,” Charles said. He turned to Fu in the bow. “Are you ready?”
    “Aye, Captain,” Fu said, and he gripped the head of a large anchor.
    “On my mark, then,” Charles said. “Ready … and … anchor away!”
    Fu heaved the heavy anchor overboard with a loud grunt, and Long watched as Malao and Charles beganto pull furiously on a complicated series of ropes attached to the mast. The sloop’s mainsail dropped like a billowing cloud, and Hok and Xie scrambled about the deck, doing their best to scoop it into their arms before it slipped into the water.
    “Hang on!” Fu warned.
    Long turned to watch the anchor’s thick rope playing out quickly through Fu’s hands over the side of the sloop. The rope slackened for an instant, and Fu hurriedly wound it around a cleat. An instant later, the rope went taut and the boat stopped its forward progress with a violent jerk. The sloop then began to drift backward with the current until the rope went taut again, the boat stopping altogether with its nose still facing upstream.
    “Well done, everyone,” Charles said as he glanced around the boat. He began to untie his robe sash, and Long asked, “What are you doing?”
    “Someone is going to have to get wet,” Charles said. “It might as well be the captain.”
    Charles slipped off his robe, and Long saw for the first time that he had a pair of matching pistols in holsters strapped across his pale chest. Charles removed the pistols and holsters, as well as his boots.
    “Malao, the bow rope, please,” Charles said.
    Malao handed Charles a