Blue Jackets: The Log of the TeaserFenn, George Manville
General
Blue Jackets: The Log of the Teaser
Fenn, George Manville
Chinese -- Juvenile fiction; Sea stories
The man began to protest volubly, but Ching rose up, and with a fierce
look rustled his new coat and sat down again, with the result that the
man loosened the rope which held his boat to the side, and the swift
tide began to bear us away directly, the man hoisting up a small
matting-sail and then meekly thrusting an oar over, with which to steer.
"Why, what did you say to him, Ching?" I asked; and the interpreter
smiled, and wrinkled up his eyes till he resembled a piece of old china
on a chimney-piece.
"Ching say velly lit' bit; only shake his new coat till common man see
it silk. He feel velly much flighten all a same, as if big-button
mandalin get in him boat."
"And what shall we have to pay him?"
"P'laps nothing 'tall."
"Oh, nonsense!" I said. "We must pay him the proper fare."
"Velly well, pay him ploper money."
I anticipated trouble, but when we got to the side and a dollar was
handed to the man, his heavy round face lit up with pleasure, and he
said something aloud.
"What does he say, Ching?" I asked.
"Say velly glad, and didn't tink he get anything 'tall."
We made the best of our way below, fully expecting that, if the captain
and Mr Reardon saw us, they would take us to task for being at the
execution, and ask; us how we dared to follow them there. But, as luck
had it, they had been too much occupied by the horrible affair in
progress, and our presence had escaped them. But it was a long while
before I could get the scene out of my head or think of our trip ashore
that day as anything but a horrible mistake.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
"MAN OVERBOARD."
It was a great relief to us all to find that our visit to the Chinese
prison had not been noticed. We of course kept silence about it, not
even telling Mr Brooke, who was the most friendly of our officers, and
we had the satisfaction of finding that Ching obeyed our orders, and
kept his peace.
I used to be rather sorry for him, his position being so solitary on
board. For he could not make himself at home with the sailors in the
forecastle, and though as frank, good-hearted fellows as ever lived,
they seemed to look upon him only in one way, that of being a butt for
their sharp witticisms, an object upon whom they were to play practical
jokes.
Consequently I used often, when I found him standing alone by the
bulwarks watching the shore, to edge up to him, and stop to talk; our
conversation being directed by me toward some little unpleasantry in the
forecastle, which if he had complained about to the first lieutenant,
there would have been a severe reprimand.
I remember one of these occasions, when Ching came flying up out of the
hatch, followed by a roar of laughter, and as he reached the deck,
_clang-clang_ went something against the sides of the hatch; but Ching
paid no heed, running forward till he was right up by the side of the
bowsprit.
I followed quickly, feeling angry on the man's behalf.
"What's the matter?" I cried. "What have they been doing?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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