Blue Jackets; or, The Adventures of J. Thompson, A.B., Among "the Heathen Chinee": A Nautical NovelGreey, Edward
General
Blue Jackets; or, The Adventures of J. Thompson, A.B., Among "the Heathen Chinee": A Nautical Novel
Greey, Edward
Great Britain. Royal Navy -- Fiction; Seafaring life -- Fiction
He knew that the landing party was but small, and if they had fallen
into an ambuscade all of them might be murdered; but knowing how
unblushingly the Chinese can pervert the truth, he made up his mind to
await further developments. Sending the messenger back with a polite
intimation, that if the expedition did not return within eight-and-forty
hours he would fire upon the town, he devoted his energies to
instructing the boys how to act in case the party were lost, and in
training his guns upon prominent buildings, the ship being moored
broadside on to the place. During the day they buried the dead, and
eight bodies were conveyed to a small island near the entrance of the
bay, and decently interred.
When night set in Beauman became restless, and began to think there was
some truth in the story brought off from the shore. "Sixty hours away
from the ship, and no sign of them yet. Poor fellows! they have been
captured and put to death."
CHAPTER XII.
We will now return to Puffeigh and his party, whom we left upon the
march towards the joss-house.
Along canal banks, over paddy fields, across bridges, by villages, whose
inhabitants would run out, hoot and spit at the foreign devils, and
vapour about what they would do were they only able; past private
residences surrounded by every accessory known to a luxurious people;
skirting walled towns and small cities, they wended their way without
stop or rest. Now and then their course lay through orchards, or fields
skirted with lychee trees, but no one was allowed to break off a branch,
although the commander knew that a few bunches of the fruit would have
been a boon to his men. The sedan bearers trotted on with Puffeigh; and
as the latter considered that his men ought to walk as well as the
Chinese did, it never once entered his mind to order a halt until night
surprised them as they were entering a village.
"What is this place called?" demanded the skipper.
"Hong-soo."
"March to the joss-house!"
"Pilot says he don't think they rate one, sir," observed Jerry. "It's a
werry one-horse sort of a place."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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