Dragon Dance Read Online Free

went on: “It’s true the Chinese junk was aerodynamically one of the most efficient sailing vessels ever built. In our world they were voyaging to India in the fourth century, to Africa in the MiddleAges. But to travel five thousand miles out of sight of land!”
    â€œOkay, okay.”
    A patter of running feet put an end to conversation. There was a bustle of activity, voices calling in a strange language. Simon crouched lower. He heard the flap of sail, the rattle of an anchor being weighed. He felt alarm at that. If they were setting sail, it knocked the notion of a short swim to shore on the head. But even if they knew in which direction shore was, they couldn’t dive overboard at the moment without being spotted. He tried to console himself with the thought that the junk would probably stick close to the coast, anyway—perhaps put in at some point before their final destination, wherever that might be.
    After a time, the activity died away, leaving the ordinary sounds of wind and waves and creaking timbers. Simon’s head was thumping still; he felt tired, and a bit sick. He dozed and, coming awake, was aware of an area in which the absolute dark was lightening slightly. Dawn. But the odd thing was that the lighter patch wasn’t on either port or starboard beam, but directly astern. He pointed that out to Brad.
    â€œYes, I’d noticed. We may be rounding a headland.”
    Simon began to be able to see his surroundings more clearly. The junk was bigger than the Roman ship in which they had crossed the Atlantic. There were five masts, each carrying a square lugsail. The sails consisted of a series of panels, stiffened by bamboo battens. According to Brad, these functioned like Venetian blinds. The release of a halyard allowed them to fold on top of one another: a quick way of shortening sail. The mast was unsupported by stays or shrouds. At the stern, there was a high section, like the castle in early Western sailing ships.
    The growing light revealed something else—unbroken ocean on all sides. Simon remarked uneasily: “Some headland.”
    There was a pause before Brad said: “Maybe we’d better get below for the time being. We’re a bit conspicuous on deck.”
    â€œDown among the zombies?”
    â€œThere must be other holds.”
    Simon was happy to leave Brad in charge of the exploration; he still felt woozy. They found another hatch, and Brad went down while Simon squatted atthe top. Brad came back up with an uneasy baffled look on his face.
    â€œIt’s occupied. And also by deep sleepers.”
    â€œMore Indians?”
    â€œNo. Chinese.”
    â€œBut . . .”
    â€œIt’s not so crowded, and they’re not lying on bare boards. They’ve got mats and pillows.” He shook his head. “I don’t get it.”
    â€œSun’s almost up.”
    â€œI know. Come on.”
    They found refuge eventually in a hold packed with sacks and boxes. When they had settled themselves, Simon said: “How far north do you think their home port might be?” Brad did not answer. “Or south?”
    Brad said: “Maybe I got it wrong.”
    â€œI don’t believe it! You got something wrong— and you’re admitting?”
    Brad was preoccupied.
    â€œTime and distance are the problem. You couldn’t store enough food and fresh water for the crew of a vessel this big on a voyage lasting that long. And if you pick up a human cargo on the way, it makes iteven more impossible. But if the human cargo can sleep through the trip—and you can put the majority of your crew to sleep as well . . . Most of the time you could get by with a handful of men. In emergencies, presumably you could wake them up and send them back to sleep afterwards. It might work. Nothing else fits the facts.”
    â€œAre you saying they put the Indians—and a lot of their own men—into some kind of hibernation?