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circular recess, and his fingers easily broke through.
    “Tear the whole thing out and put your head in,” Tonglong said. “Tell me what you see.”
    ShaoShu gladly tore the scary painting to pieces and threw them to the ground. He pushed against the wooden frame, and it crumbled in his hands. With thecircular opening cleared, he pressed his head through it, but the rest of his body was stopped short by his shoulders. He pulled his head back out and looked down at Tonglong.
    “I can't see anything, and I can't fit. Please let me down.”
    “No,” Tonglong said. “You're not finished yet. Take hold of the recess again, and keep your balance. I'm going to squat once more.” Tonglong squatted and reached down as ShaoShu teetered on Tonglong's shoulders. ShaoShu couldn't see what he was doing.
    Tonglong stood, and ShaoShu maintained his grip on the window opening for support. Tonglong said, “Lower your right hand.”
    ShaoShu dropped his hand, and Tonglong slapped something cold and slimy into it.
    “Ew!”
ShaoShu cried. “What is it?”
    “Beef tongue. Nice and slippery, thanks to the flies. Pull off your robe and wipe it against your shoulders. You'll squeeze right through.”
    ShaoShu paused.
    “I could always cut off one of your arms instead to help you fit,” Tonglong said.
    Remembering Tonglong's straight sword, ShaoShu began to worry. “Why do you think I can make it, sir?”
    “Because a mouse can fit its entire body inside any opening that can accommodate its head. It does so by dislocating its joints. I felt your arm earlier, and you have very loose joints, like your namesake. I suspect that you can dislocate one or even both of yourshoulders without too much trouble. I can help you, if you like.”
    ShaoShu swallowed hard. “No, thank you, sir. I'll manage.” While it was painful, he'd done it before.
    He pushed his robe off his shoulders, down to his waist, and gooseflesh formed across his back and arms in the cold night air. He quickly slathered the rotting beef tongue up one shoulder and down the other, then threw it aside.
    ShaoShu shoved his head back through the opening and craned his neck in the darkness of the interior. He could see nothing. He slipped his right arm and part of his right shoulder into the window and groaned. “A little higher, please, sir.”
    He felt Tonglong grasp his ankles, and slowly he began to rise. The moment his hips were in line with the opening, ShaoShu wrenched his right shoulder violently in toward the center of his chest. With a muffled cry and a loud
crack, squish!
he thrust his upper body through, his left arm and shoulder following with the help of the slick beef tongue juice.
    He was in up to his waist.
    ShaoShu took a deep breath, sweating profusely, trying to block out the tremendous pain in his dislocated right shoulder. Before he could make his next move, he felt Tonglong preparing to give him one final shove.
    “No!” ShaoShu squeaked. “Not yet, sir!”
    But it was too late. ShaoShu felt Tonglong twist him through the opening like a screw. An instant later,he landed in a heap on the cold stone floor, not having had a chance to pop his shoulder back into its socket. Without two arms to cushion his fall, his head struck the floor violently.
    ShaoShu slipped into unconsciousness.

CHAPTER
7

    C harles sat on the deck of his sloop, straining his eyes in the dim light of a paraffin lamp. In one hand, he held a block of flint; in the other, a large stone hammer. Raising the hammer high, Charles brought it down with great precision against a subtle crack in the flint's side. A flake roughly the size of his thumbnail sheared off, landing at his feet in a shower of sparks.
    Charles smiled. He loved knapping flints in the dark. If he had enough time, he would make a whole pile of flints for his Dutch mates to use in their pistols. That would be an appropriate gift in exchange for the hospitality he would surely receive.
    With thoughts of Dutch delicacies