South China Sea<br > Beverly Hills<br >A groan turned into a shriek， and it could have come from<br > . ~ . .<br >anywhere: from the vlo~nt wind lashing the huge spread<br >of canvas above， or even from one of the women below in<br >the staterooms: You couldn t tell， not in that nervous sea.<br > And now sharper gusts beat against the black junk.<br >Fifty meters long， three-masted， the big Hong Konger<br >heeled hard over and plowed stubbornly against the water.<br >Jolted suddenly， Piet Van Slyke， a heaver of a man， almost<br >lest his footing on the fantail. He grabbed quickly for a<br >slippery railing， nearly missing it.<br > "Bowels of Christ[" he swore.<br > "And in God s name， what are we doing outside?" chided<br >Liu Wai.<br > "A little fresh air. Good to think in."<br > ~Good to get sick in， you mean. There are a dozen cabins<br > below."<br > "Hollanders don t chase women from their comforts."<br > "Rot in hell then. I m Chinese."<br > "Who are well known for their abuses of women." Van<br > Slyke boomed a laugh， enjoying the Singaporean s discom-<br > fort.<br ><br >