Ching was still sleeping heavily, and our conversation did not disturb him, and after a few moments' thought I said-- "But I don't feel at all sure why he did not hail the boats when they were going off." "Oh, I do, sir," replied Tom Jecks. "I wouldn't ha' thought it possible, but the poor fellow was regularly scared, and wouldn't speak at first, because he thought that if he was hoisted on board the first thing we would do would be to go for his tail." "Yes," I said, "that sounds likely; but he did hail after all." "And enough to make him, sir; poor chap. Do you know why?" "Well, not exactly," I said. "A'cause the first fright had gone, and the bigger one had come. At first he was all in a squirm about losing his tail, but after a bit he got wacken up to the fact that if he didn't get took aboard he'd precious soon lose his life." CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. CHING HAS A NOTE. I suppose that Mr Reardon thought better of his threat, or probably he came to the conclusion that the expectation of punishment would prove as effective as the punishment itself. At all events nothing was said, and the routine of the ship went on as usual. The decks were scrubbed, the guns polished, and the marines drilled, till, as Barkins said, they could walk up to the top of a ladder and down the other side without touching. The Jacks, too, had their gun drill and sword exercise, till their cutlasses flashed about with an exactness that promised to shave a head without cutting off an ear--promised: the performance might have been another thing. As soon as I had an opportunity I started to go below and see Ching, but before I was half-way there I ran against Smith. "Where are you going in such a hurry?" "To see how Ching's getting on." "Did you put on a clean shirt?" "No," I said innocently. "I can't stand one every day." "Oh, come, this won't do!" cried Smith. "Here, hi, Barkins!" "What's the row?" said our messmate, coming up. "Row enough. Look here, this won't do. The Gnat's going below to see His Excellency Ching Baron fancee shop, and Knight of the Tow-chang, without putting on a clean shirt." "Go and report him to the captain. Why, worse and worse, he hasn't shaved!" "No, that he hasn't." "Well, I haven't got any razors like you fellows have," I retorted. "I say, Tanner, have you stropped yours up lately? Smithy's are getting rusty with the sea air." "You're getting rusty with the sea air," grumbled Smith, who was very proud of the possession of a pair of razors with Sunday and Monday etched on the blades. He had once or twice shown them to me, saying that they were a present from his father, who was going to leave him the other five, which completed the days of the week, in his will. I remember how I offended him at the time by saying-- "Well, that will be quite as soon as you want them." "Look here," said Smith rather haughtily, after a look at Barkins; "we've been talking this business over, and it is time it was stopped."