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
"Allee light," he said, smiling. "Get plenty blead, meat. You fillee
big tub with water;" and he pointed to a large rough vessel, and another
which was a great earthenware jar.
"But where are we to get the water?" I said.
"Out o' liver. Plenty water in liver."
"We can't drink that peasoup," I said, as I looked over the side in
disgust at the yellow solution of mud.
"Velly good water. Allee salt gone now. Plenty clear by and by."
"We must make the best of it, Herrick," said my companion; and then
turning to Ching, he said rather sternly--
"Here are eight dollars: buy as much bread and cooked meat as you can,
and get back as quickly as possible, when we set you ashore."
Ching nodded and smiled.
"Be velly quick," he said; "and you take boat lit' way out, and stop
till come back."
"Of course; trust us for that, my man."
Ten minutes later we ran alongside some rough bamboo piles, to which
about half-a-dozen Chinamen hurried, to stand staring at us. But Ching
paid no attention to them. He only made a leap from the boat when we
were a couple of yards from the platform, landed safely but with tail
flying, and his blue cotton garment inflating balloon-like with the
wind. Then he walked away among the houses, and one of our men pushed
the boat off again, evidently to the intense wonder of the people, who
stared hard to see a British sailor managing a native vessel; while two
others, in a costume perfectly new to them, sat looking on.
Then our men were packed out of sight, some in the little cabin, others
hidden at the bottom of the boat, beneath a matting-sail.
When we were about a hundred yards from the shore, a clumsy wooden
grapnel, to which a heavy stone was bound with a twisted rope of bamboo,
was dropped overboard, and then we lay in the swift tide, with the boat
tugging at the line as if eager to be off on the chase the stern
necessity concerning food kept us from carrying on at once.
"How these people do seem to detest us, Herrick!" said Mr Brooke, after
we had been waiting patiently for about a quarter of an hour,
impatiently another, but not quite in idleness, for, after tasting the
river water to find that it was very slightly brackish now, the tub and
the jar were both filled and left to settle.
"Yes, they're not very fond of us," I replied, as I noted how the
numbers were increasing, and that now there was a good deal of talking
going on, and this was accompanied by gesticulations, we evidently being
the objects of their interest. "They can't have much to do."
Mr Brooke made no reply, but moment by moment he grew more uneasy, as
he alternately scanned the people ashore and the junks in the offing.
"Oh," I said at last, "if we could only see the _Teaser_ coming up the
river!"
"I'd be content, Herrick," said Mr Brooke bitterly, "if we could only
see the messenger coming back with our stores."
"Yes," I said uneasily, for I had been fidgeting a good deal; "he is a
long time."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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