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
"Oh no, they hadn't," cried Barkins. "We don't want to take you on
board without any head."
"But they daren't hurt us," cried Smith bumptiously. "We're Englishmen,
and our gunboat is in the river. I'm not afraid. Why, there'd be a war
if one of these men interfered with us. Our people would land and burn
up the place."
"No," said Ching quietly. "Send letter to mandalin. Why you men cut
off little offlicer head?"
"Here, who are you calling little officer, Pigtail?" cried Smith
indignantly.
"Mean young offlicer," cried Ching hastily. "Say, Why you men cut chop
young offlicer head off? Mandalin say, Velly solly. He find out who
blave was who chop young offlicer head, and give him lichi."
"You mean toco?" said Barkins.
"No; lichi."
"What's lichi?" I said.
"Tie blave up along post, and man come velly sharp sword, cut him all in
'lit pieces while he live."
"And do they do that?" I asked, in horror.
"Neve' find out blave who chop off head," said Ching, with a queer
twinkle of the eyes. "No find blave, no can give him lichi."
"Sounds pleasant, Poet, don't it?" said Barkins.
"Horrid!" I cried, with a shudder.
"Moral: Don't try to peep into mandarins' gateways, Blacksmith,"
continued Barkins.
"Bosh! it's all gammon. I should like to see one of them try to cut my
head off."
"I shouldn't," I cried, laughing; "and he wouldn't."
"No," said Ching perfectly seriously. "Velly bad have head chop off.
Head velly useful."
"Very," said Barkins mockingly. "Well done, Chinese Wisdom. I say,
Herrick, why is a mandarin like the Grand Panjandrum?"
"Because he plays at the game of catch, catch, can and can't catch the
man who cuts off the English fellow's head," said Smith.
"Wrong!" cried Barkins. "Now you, Poet."
"Because he's got a little round button on the top."
"Good boy, go up one," cried Barkins.
"Hallo! what place is this?"
"Velly good place, eatee drinkee. All velly nicee nicee."
"Here, I say, Ching," cried Smith, "gently; any one would think we were
babies. Stow some of that nicee nicee."
"Yes! Stow all along inside, like ship. Allee good. Come 'long."
For we had reached a showy-looking open-sided building, standing a
little way back in a well-kept garden, with rockeries and tiny
fish-ponds, clipped trees and paved walks, while the large open house
displayed tables and neat-looking waiters going to and fro, attending
upon well-dressed Chinamen, whose occupation was so much in accordance
with our desires, that we entered at once, and Ching led the way to a
table; one of the waiters coming up smiling as soon as we were seated.
"Now then," cried Barkins, who was full of memories of hard biscuit and
tough salt beef, "what are we going to have to eat?"
"I don't know," I said, looking round uneasily. "What have they got?"
"Here, let's make Ching order the dinner," cried Smith. "Look here, old
chap. We can have a good dinner for a dollar apiece, can't we?"
"Velly good dinner, dollar piecee," he replied.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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