Mr Brooke's hand upon mine answered my wonderings.  He pressed it and the tiller together, the boat's sail filled gently once more, and we resumed our course, but the direction of the boat was changed more to the north-eastward.  We were easing off to port so as to get well to the left of the junks, and for some distance we ran like this; then the hand touched mine again, and the rudder was pressed till we were gliding southward again, but we had not gone far when Ching uttered a low warning, and I just had time to shift the helm and send the boat gliding round astern of a large junk, which loomed up above us like ebony, as we were going dead for it, and if we had struck, our fragile bamboo boat would have gone to pieces like so much touchwood, leaving us struggling in the water.