Blue Jackets: The Log of the TeaserFenn, George Manville
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Blue Jackets: The Log of the Teaser
Fenn, George Manville
Chinese -- Juvenile fiction; Sea stories
"Yes; velly muchee makee haste. Pilate come soon."
"Yes, sir; he's quite right, sir. You two cut and run."
"And let them come and murder you, while we go?" I said.
"Well, yes, sir," said the poor fellow faintly; "there's no good in
having three killed when one would do."
"Look about, Ching," I said sharply. "Is there any place where we can
hide?"
"No," he replied disconsolately. "Only place for lit' dog; no fo' man."
"You can't do it, sir," said our poor companion. "Good-bye, sir, and
God bless you; you've done all a orficer can."
"Oh, have I? I should look well when Mr Reardon or the captain says,
`What have you done with your men?'"
"Don't! stop a-talking, sir," he cried, clinging to my hand. "You know
what these beggars are, and you'll have 'em on to you, sir."
"Yes; and we shall have them on to you if we don't find a place soon.
Here, Ching, don't run away and leave us;" for I could see the
interpreter climbing up a gap in the cliff.
"He's quite right, sir; you go after him. I tell you it's all over and
done with me. If you got me along a bit farther, I should only go off
all the same. It's all up. Now, pray go, sir. It's no use to stay."
"Hold your tongue!" I cried angrily; for with the feeling on me strong
that the pirates might be down on us directly, and the only thing to do
was to set off and run for my life, the poor fellow's imploring words
were like a horrible temptation that I was too weak to resist.
"I must speak, sir," he whispered, with his eyes starting, and his lips
black and cracked by the heat and feverish thirst caused by his wound.
"There, you see, Mr Ching's gone, and your only chance is to follow
him."
I looked up, and just caught sight of one of the Chinaman's legs as he
disappeared over the edge of the cliff to which, high up, he had
crawled. And once more the desire to escape came upon me, but with
increased strength, that made me so angry at my weakness that I turned
upon the poor fellow almost threateningly.
"Will you hold your tongue?" I whispered hoarsely.
"Will you go, sir?" he pleaded. "I tell yer it's all up with me, and
the Teapots can't hurt me worse than what I've got now. Arn't got your
dirk, have you?"
"No; why?"
"'Cause it would ha' been an act o' kindness to put me out of my misery,
and save me from being cut to pieces by them there wretches. Now, sir,
good-bye, and God bless you, once more! Tell the skipper I did my duty
to the last."
I broke down as I sank on my knees by the poor fellow; and I didn't know
my voice--perhaps it was being husky from the heat-as I said to him,
very chokily--
"And if you get away, tell the captain I did my duty to the last."
"Yes, sir; but do go now."
I jumped up again, ashamed of the blinding tears that came for a few
moments into my eyes.
"Look here," I said; "if you weren't so weak, I'd kick you, old a man as
you are. Likely thing for a British officer to sneak off and leave one
of his men like this!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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