"Talk slawly," the man said in a strident accent. "Cannat understand you."
"Huh?" asked Remo.
"I cannat understand you, Yank."
"Same here," said Remo. "Coast Guard station. Where?"
The man pointed vaguely. "Yander."
"Where?"
The man leaned in, and Remo received the full force of his fermented breath. It smelled familiar, but Remo put that out of his mind. He had places to go.
"Yander. As the craw flies."
"Are you trying to say `Yonder. As the crow flies'?"
"I did say it," the fisherman returned.
"Thanks. By the way, is that a burr or a brogue you're speaking?"
"What?"
"It is a brogue," said Chiun.
"If you say so," said Remo.
"If it were a burr, this would be Nova Scotia. It is not."
"What's the difference?"
"It is the difference between New Ireland and New Scotland."
"Oh."
"Did that one's accent fall upon your ears like the one you consigned to his watery death?"
"Hard to say when everyone all sounds like they have a knot in their tongue," said Remo.
AT THE ST. JOHN'S Coast Guard station, they were denied entrance.
"No admittance," the guard said, jabbing his finger at a sign.
"It says, Entree lnterdite," Remo argued.
The guard then pointed to the opposite sign, which did say No Admittance.
"We're here about the Coast Guard Cutter you people are detaining."
"There is no Coast Guard cutter here. Other than Canadian cutters, of course."
"Of course," said Remo politely.
"Of course," agreed Chiun equally politely.
"Sorry. Our mistake," added Remo with a disarming smile. And they turned to walk away.
Abruptly they spun, taking out the guards with open-handed chops that brought both men to their knees. Remo chopped again, and their faces smacked the cold, hard ground.
They entered otherwise unchallenged.
"Now all we gotta do is find Sandy Heckman," undertoned Remo.
"Listen for cursing," suggested Chiun.
"Good idea," said Remo.
They walked through the grounds until they came upon a Coast Guardsman walking along all by his lonesome. Security seemed lax at best.
"Excuse us," said Remo.
"You are excused," the man said, walking on by. Remo reached back and arrested him by the neck. He squeezed. The man froze in place. Then Remo turned him around with a casual spin.
"I asked a polite question. What's wrong with a polite answer?"
"Nothing."
"Where's your brig?"
The man pointed with the only appendage that seemed to function. His left ear. "The white building. But it is off-limits at the moment."
"Not to us."
"To everyone."
"If I point you in the general direction, will you take us there?" asked Remo.
"No."
"Good," said Remo, who pointed the man in the general direction of the brig anyway.
To the Coast Guardsman's surprise, he began walking. Remo urged him along with ungentle squeezes and pinches of his spinal column.
"Why am I walking toward the brig when I don't want to?" the man asked nervously.
"Because I am playing hell with your motor nerves," Remo responded.