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Blue Jackets; or, The Log of the Teaser, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 5. Ching Has Ideas |
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_ CHAPTER FIVE. CHING HAS IDEAS Week had passed, during which we had cruised here and there, in the hope of falling in with the pirates. Once in the right waters, it did not much signify which course we took, for we were as likely to come across them sailing north as south. So our coal was saved, and we kept steadily along under canvas. But fortune seemed to be still against us, and though we boarded junk after junk, there was not one of which the slightest suspicion could be entertained; and their masters, as soon as they realised what our mission was, were only too eager to afford us every information they could. Unfortunately, they could give us none of any value. They could only tell us about divers acts of horrible cruelty committed here and there within the past few months, but could not point out where the pirates were likely to be found. Ching, in spite of some rough weather, had never been obliged to leave the deck, and had proved to be so valuable an acquisition, that he was informed that he would have a certain rate of pay as interpreter while he stayed on board; and as soon as he was made aware of this, he strutted up to me and told me the news. "Captain makee interpleter and have lot dollar. Muchee better keepee fancee shop." This was after, at my suggestion to Mr Reardon, he had been sent out in one of the boats to board a big junk, and from that time it became a matter of course that when a boat was piped away, Ching's pigtail was seen flying out nearly horizontally in his eagerness to be first in the stern-sheets. But it was always the same. The boat came back with Ching looking disappointed, and his yellow forehead ploughed with parallel lines. "Ching know," he said to me one evening mysteriously. "Know what?" I said. "Plenty pilate boat hide away in island. No come while big ship _Teasler_ here." "Oh, wait a bit," I said; "we shall catch them yet." "No, catchee," he said despondently. "Pilate velly cunning. See Queen Victolia ship say big gun go bang. 'Top away." "But where do you think they hide?" "Evelywhere," he said. "Plentee liver, plenty cleek, plenty hide away." "Then we shall never catch them?" I said. "Ching wantee catchee, wantee plenty money; but pilate won't come. Pilate 'flaid." "And I suppose, as soon as we go away, they'll come out and attack the first merchantman that comes along the coast." "Yes," said Ching coolly; "cut allee boy float, settee fire junk, burnee ship." "Then what's to be done?" I said. "It's very disappointing." "Ching go back fancee shop; no catchee pilate, no plize-money." "Oh, but we shall drop upon them some day." "No dlop upon pilate. Ching not captain. Ching catchee." "How?" I said. "Take big ship back to liver. Put big gun, put jolly sailor 'board two big junk, and go sail 'bout. Pilate come thinkee catchee plenty silk, plenty tea. Come aboard junk. Jolly sailor chop head off, and no more pilate." "That sounds well, Ching," I said; "but I don't think we could do that." "No catchee pilate?" he said. "Ching velly tire. No good, velly hungry; wantee go back fancee shop." I thought a good deal about what the Chinaman had said, for it was weary, dispiriting work this overhauling every vessel we saw that seemed likely to be our enemy. It was dangerous work, too, for the narrow sea was foul with reefs; but our information had been that it was in the neighbourhood of the many islands off Formosa that the piratical junks had their nest, and the risk had to be run for the sake of the possible capture to be made. "Ching says he wants to get back to the fancee shop," sad Smith one morning. "So do I, for I'm sick of this dreary work. Why, I'd rather have another of our days ashore." "Not you," I said. "But I say, look here, I haven't spoke about it before, but Ching says--hi, Tanner, come here!" "That he doesn't," cried Smith. "Hallo! what is it?" said Barkins, whom I had hailed, and he came over from the port side of the deck. "I was going to tell Blacksmith what Ching says. You may as well hear too." "Don't want to. I know." "What! has he been saying to you--" "No, not again." "What did he say?" "Ti-ope-I-ow!" cried Barkins, imitating the Chinaman's high falsetto, and then striking imaginary strings of a guitar-like instrument. "peng--_peng-peng_." "I say, don't fool," I cried angrily. "Gnat!" said Barkins sharply, "you're a miserably-impudent little scrub of a skeeter, and presume upon your size to say insolent things to your elders." "No, I don't," I said shortly. "Yes, you do, sir. You called me a fool just now." "I didn't." "If you contradict me, I'll punch your miserable little head, sir. No, I won't, I'll make Blacksmith do it; his fists are a size smaller than mine." "Be quiet, Tanner!" cried Smith; "he knows something. Now, then, Gnat: what does Ching say?" "That we shall never catch the pirates, because they won't come out when the gunboat is here." "Well, there's something in that. Tell Mr Reardon." "Is it worth while? He says we ought to arm a couple of junks, and wait for the pirates to come out and attack us." "Ching's Christian name ought to be Solomon," said Smith. "Thanky wisdom teeth," said Barkins sarcastically. "I say, Gnat, he's quite right. They'd be fools if they did come out to be sunk. I daresay they're watching us all the time somewhere or other from one of the little fishing-boats we see put out." "Well, young gentlemen," said a sharp voice behind us; "this is contrary to dishipline. You can find something better to do than gossiping." "Beg pardon, sir, we are not gossiping," said Barkins. "We were discussing the point." "Oh, indeed," said the first lieutenant sarcastically; "then have the goodness to--" Barkins saw breakers ahead, and hastened to say-- "The Chinaman says, sir--" "Don't tell me what the Chinaman says, sir!" cried the lieutenant fiercely. "But it was about the pirates, sir." "Eh? What?" cried our superior officer, suddenly changing his tone. "Has he some idea?" "Yes, sir. No, sir." "Mr Barkins! What do you mean, sir?" "He thinks we shall never catch them, sir," stammered my messmate, who could see punishment writ large in the lieutenant's face. "Confound the Chinaman, sir!" roared the lieutenant. "So do I; so does Captain Thwaites." He spoke so loudly that this gentleman heard him from where he was slowly marching up and down, talking to the marine officer, and he turned and came towards us. "In trouble, young gentlemen?" he said quietly. "Pray what does Captain Thwaites?" he added, turning to the chief officer. "I beg your pardon, sir. I was a little exasperated. These young gentlemen, upon my reproving them for idling, have hatched up a cock-and-bull story--at least Mr Barkins has." "I beg pardon, sir; it was not a--not a--not a--" "Cock-and-bull story, Mr Herrick," said the captain, smiling at my confusion, for I had rushed into the gap. "Then pray what was it?" I told him all that Ching had said, and the captain nodded his head again and again as I went on. "Yes," he said at last, "I'm afraid he is right, Reardon. It is worth thinking about. What do you say to my sending you and Mr Brooke in a couple of junks?" They walked off together, and we heard no more. "Oh, how I should like to punch old Dishy's head!" said Barkins between his teeth. "Don't take any notice," said Smith; "it's only because he can't get a chance to sink a pirate. I don't believe there's one anywhere about the blessed coast." "Sail ho!" cried the man at the mast-head, and all was excitement on the instant, for after all the strange sail might prove to be a pirate. "Away on the weather bow, sir, under the land!" cried the man in answer to hails from the deck; and then, before glasses could be adjusted and brought to bear, he shouted-- "She's ashore, sir--a barque--fore--topmast gone, and--she's afire." The _Teaser's_ course was altered directly, and, helped by a favouring breeze, we ran down rapidly towards the wreck, which proved to be sending up a thin column of smoke, and soon after this was visible from the deck. _ |
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