Stan Lynn: A Boy's Adventures in China

“Awfully, sir,” said the man; and then meaningly, “Didn’t you see the crows?”

Stan’s brave companion was alluding to a long line of dusky birds that were following the dismal objects floating in direful procession down the river, and coming up from all directions to join their friends.

“Yes,” said the lad, with a shudder, “I saw them;” and at the same minute a voice came from behind, one of the party calling the attention of another to the same strange piece of animal instinct.

“I say,” he said, “look how the crows are coming up. How can they know when there is a fight?”

He called them crows – the common term – but he meant vultures, the scavengers of the Chinese villages and towns.

Blunt was sleeping heavily, or rather, he was lying back in a state of semi-stupor, the result of his wounds and the exertion of moving when in so weak a state. Wing was at his side, busily wafting the fan to and fro, but closing it quickly from time to time to make a blow at some troublesome, obtrusive fly, but never hitting once.

“Still asleep?” said Stan in a whisper.

“Yes, sleep velly fast,” replied the man. “Velly bad indeed. Hot in head now. Keep talkee. Say silly pidgin nonsense. Wanted get up and go ’way while all fight. Heah pilate shout. Wanted go see. Wing tly to ’top him. Say knock Wing down not get out o’ way. – You been killee all pilate?”

“All? Nonsense,” said Stan wearily. “But we’ve driven them away.”

“Dlive allee ’way? Yes,” said Wing, nodding his head a good deal. “Shoot, killee, flighten. Fly ’way like clows when shoot. But soon fo’get. Come back again like clows.”

“Come back like the crows?” said Stan.

“Yes. Shoot gun, all fly ’way. Fo’get soon; come back again to get good t’ings.”

“Do you mean you think the pirates will come back and attack?”

“Yes. Wing suah. Some day.”

“Do you think he is right?” said Stan, turning to his lieutenant.

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” was the reply. “Not for some days, of course; but they have been disappointed of the plunder, and knowing it is here, they’ll come again to try and get it and to pay us out for the number we have killed and wounded. There! don’t talk about it now. Let’s see about a meal being got ready. – You, Wing, I think you could leave Mr Blunt as he is. He can’t do better than sleep.”

“No do betteh,” said the Chinaman. “You say, go get dinneh leady? Wing glad. Do evelybody muchee good.”

“See about it, then,” said Stan, “while we go and say a few words to the coolies – eh? Don’t you think they ought to be praised for what they have done?”

“Yes,” was the lieutenant’s reply; “come and say a few words to them – not many – and tell them you are pleased with the way they fought. But tell them, too, that you’ll have a good supper got ready for them by-and-by. That’ll please them better than any amount of words.”

Stan led the way to where the Chinamen were chatting together about the fight and the way in which the enemy had been driven off; but they were eager enough to turn and listen to the lad’s words. Their round faces brightened upon hearing the announcement about the feast they were to have, and they indulged in a hoarse cheer when their visitors left to join their companions. Then, after one of the doors had been opened, the little party stepped out into the bloodstained alley between the building and the impromptu wall, which, besides being splashed with molten pitch and charred here and there, was horribly blotched in places by the gore of some wretched pirate who had been wounded or met his end.

“After what has been said, then,” said Stan sadly, “it will not be safe to pull down these chests?”

“Well, I don’t know yet. I think I’d leave them up till Mr Blunt has had a word or two to say to-morrow. I hope he’ll be well enough to take a little interest in matters by then. There’s no hurry. We’ll have them put straight here and there to repair damages, but they may very well wait afterwards, as there’s not likely to be any rain. But I say, Mr Lynn, what do you think about that bit of treachery? I was of opinion that it was Wing.”

“So was I at first, but he seems so calm and innocent.”

“Ah, yes! But you mustn’t think a Chinaman innocent because he looks so. He’s a mystery, you know. But still I have my doubts, and it worries me lest it should be one of the coolies. It would be so much worse then.”

“Why?” said Stan, looking wonderingly at his companion.

“Because they all belong to the same gang – are all members of one club – and if one of them proves to be a traitor, the bad sheep corrupts the whole flock.”

“What is to be done?” said Stan after a short, thoughtful pause.

“Nothing now, sir. We know there is a traitor amongst our men, but there is nothing to fear from that until the enemy come again. On further thought, however, I don’t think it was Wing.”

“I’m very glad,” said Stan, “for I believed in him, and I’m sure my father and uncle did. It must be one of the coolies, then. How are we to find out?”

“By going on quietly and not appearing to suspect. As I say, there is no immediate danger, and we have other things to think about. What do you propose doing first?”

“Asking your advice about Mr Blunt. I want to send for a doctor at once.”

“Ah, yes! But you ask my advice. Well, it is that you wait till the morning.”

“Wait till the morning? I want to send a boat with a messenger down the river to the port to bring back a doctor.”

“He could only bring a native one, and he has one now.”

“What! Wing? He is not a surgeon.”

“No; but he knows a great deal of that sort of thing. He has helped Mr Blunt to doctor the men often enough here, and I’d as soon trust him if I were wounded as I would an ordinary native surgeon. You see how well he has treated the governor already.”

“Roughly bandaged him up,” said Stan impatiently; “but he may bleed to death in the night.”

“Not likely, sir. Wing plugged his wounds, and I looked to see that the bleeding had stopped.”

“But he may be bleeding internally.”

“No; I’m sure of that.”

“How can you tell without a proper examination?”

“By the state he is in.”

“Then you are a hit of a doctor?” said Stan rather dubiously.

“More of a surgeon, sir. We’re obliged to be in these out-of-the-way places,” said his lieutenant, smiling.

“I know nothing, but I’m horribly anxious. How can you tell?”

“Simply enough, sir,” said the other. “Where is his wound?”

“Right through the shoulder.”

“Very well; where would he bleed if it was not outside?”

“Why, inside, of course,” said Stan.

“Certainly; but where?”

“As I said – inside.”

“Inside is rather a vague term, sir. Well, look here; the wounds are quite high up?”

“Yes, very.”

“Then if he bled anywhere, it would be into the cavity of the chest.”

“I don’t know anything about cavities, but of course it must be into the chest.”

“Exactly. Well, we know his heart isn’t touched.”

“How?” said Stan.

“Because if it had been he would be a dead man.”

“I see.”

“Then no big arteries or veins are wounded. If they had been he would have been suffocated by the blood long enough ago.”

“Would he?”

“Of course. His lungs would have been choked with blood, so we know that they are not injured.”

“I see,” said Stan; “but it’s very horrible, isn’t it?”

“I think not. Any one who learns things like this may find them very useful in an emergency. I do; and it gives a man confidence. I don’t think Mr Blunt’s wound is dangerous at all.”

“I do,” said Stan shortly. “See how delirious he seems to have been.”

“That’s only natural, sir. Fever sets in generally after a wound.”

“Oh, but you make too light of it,” cried Stan. “He is shot right through the shoulder.”

“So much the better.”

“What!” cried Stan angrily. “How can that be so much the better?”

“There is no fear of dangerous inflammation caused by the presence of the bullet, for we know that it isn’t in him, and Nature has set to work before now to begin healing him up.”

“Without a doctor?”

“To be sure. She’s a splendid surgeon, sir.”

“I wish I could feel as confident as you do,” said Stan.

“Well, learn all you can; you soon will.”

“Then you think we might wait till the morning?”

“Certainly. You and I will take it in turns to watch him through the night, and in the morning we shall see.”

“Very well,” said Stan; “perhaps you are right, but I feel very anxious about Mr Blunt.”

“So do I, sir; but I feel sure that we are doing right.”

Right or wrong, a little thought taught the lad that he was helpless. Night was at hand, and it would have been impossible to despatch a message till morning, for the presence of the pirates and the sound of the firing had put every owner of a boat to flight.

Hence it was, then, that the inevitable was cheerfully accepted.

That night darkness soon hid the towering sails of the retreating pirates; and in the morning watch, when Stan left Blunt’s side to go to the roof and look out in the grey dawn, glad to breathe the fresh, cool air after some hours in the heated office where he had shared the watch by Blunt’s rough couch, there was no sign of danger, scan the distant windings of the river how he would, while sunrise endorsed the fact that the enemy had sailed on all through the night for their rendezvous, scores of miles away.

Chapter Thirty Two

“Shot Silk.”

It was the next evening when, after a whole day’s rest passed in a deep sleep quite free from fever – as Stan was made to notice by Wing the Chinaman, who drew his attention to the calmness of the sleep, the absence of all fever and restlessness, and, above all, the soft, fine perspiration which bedewed the patient’s skin – Blunt slowly opened his eyes in the office, now made light and airy by the removal of the barricades, and lay looking up at the ceiling.

As Wing pointed out the fact to Stan, the movement he made startled the sufferer, who looked at him sideways and said:

“What’s the matter? Where am I?”

Stan bent over him and replied.

“To be sure. Yes; I remember now. Ah, how weak I am! But tell me, Lynn; how are things going?”

Stan explained the position briefly.

“Good!” said Blunt. “Excellent! Thoroughly thrashed them?”

“For the present; but we all believe that they’ll come back.”

“No, no, Lynn,” replied Blunt faintly; “not for long enough, if they ever do. Tell me again; how many did they lose?”

“Ought you to talk now?”

“Well, no, I suppose not much; but I’m all right, only very weak. I’m not going to die, my lad. There! I will not talk much. Go on telling me. I must hear.”

Stan told him, but made no allusion to the bit of treachery; and when he had ended the manager smiled his approval.

“Just what I expected,” he said. “Brave lads, all of them.”

Hearing the talking, Stan’s lieutenant in the defence came softly in, but not so quietly as to be unheard by the wounded man, who raised his hand on the uninjured side.

“Ah, Lawrence!” he said. “I’ve heard all about it. Bravely done, all of you. I’m better, you see. All that feverish muddle I felt in the head is gone.”

“That’s right, sir. I came in to see how you were.”

“Couldn’t be going on better.”

“But what about sending down to Nang Ti for a native doctor?”

“What for?”

“To attend you, sir.”

“Pooh! Absurd! Wing can do anything that a native doctor would suggest. He knows as much as I do, and I know by my symptoms that I’m going on all right.”

“But we thought that as soon as you came to it might be better to send for help.”

“No need, my man. I must be kept a bit low and quiet, not worried nor allowed to get up too soon, and I shall soon be as well as ever. Now tell me quietly, what have you done about our breastworks and the wall?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“What! not got the boxes and bales under cover again?”

“We thought it better to leave things as they were in case the enemy returned.”

“Bah! They will not come. But look here; the ammunition must be getting very low.”

“Very, sir,” said Lawrence, with a meaning look at Stan.

“To be sure. – Here, Lynn, first thing to-morrow morning write a despatch to your father, telling him of the attack and asking for a fresh supply of cartridges. It must be sent off by Wing in the first boat you can get hold of. At Nang Ti he will soon find a steamer bound for Hai-Hai – You, Lawrence, start the first thing in the morning all hands at work to restore everything that is not damaged.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That will do. I must not talk any more. Good-night.”

To Stan’s surprise, the patient had no sooner closed his eyes than he seemed to be asleep; and it was late morning, just as Stan’s long letter was finished, and Wing, who declared himself well enough, came in to announce that he had picked up a boat from among those which had come stealing back, when Blunt opened his eyes again.

Busy days followed, with confidence returning as no further news was heard of the pirates, while the way in which the people of the nearest villages came back to their homes and work in the fields seemed to act as an endorsement of the idea that the terrible raid was over, and the likelihood of there being another attack seemed to be past.

The men worked hard; the traces of the fiery trial disappeared from the great storehouse, save that the charring and the pitch-stains refused to be scraped out; barricades disappeared, and partitions and stacks of chests and bales rose again in their old places; the carpenters cut out damaged wood, and with the exception of new-looking patches the place assumed its former aspect, while the business in the office and counting-house went on again as if the whole ugly blood-shedding had been only a feverish dream.

Wing had not yet returned, but one afternoon Stan was busy in the office talking to Blunt about a boatload of tea which had come down from the interior – for the manager had progressed so rapidly that he was well on the high-road to complete recovery. Naturally he was a good deal pulled down, hollow of cheek and sunken of eye, and compelled to assist his steps by means of a stout bamboo cane, while the arm nearest to the injury was supported by a silken scarf used as a sling. But he was bright and cheerful, and busy in the office some hours every day, working, as he called it, vicariously, Stan being his deputy, who superintended a great deal of the correspondence that went on.

“No news yet of Wing,” he was saying. “Seems a very long time, Lynn.”

“Oh no; it’s a long way, and there might be some delay over getting the supplies you want.”

“S’pose so,” said Blunt abruptly. “Good job our piratical friends don’t know of it or they’d come down at once. Hullo! What’s that?”

Lawrence rose and went to the window to see what was the meaning of a loud gabble of voices coming from the wharf.

“It’s a boat coming in,” he said.

“Oh, Wing at last!” said Blunt. “Well, I’m very glad. A good supply of ammunition is just the tonic that will pull me round.”

“It may be, sir, but I hardly think so,” replied Lawrence. “It’s the Chee-ho come back.”

“With that miserable sneak Mao. Cowardly hound to slip off as he did. Here, I’ll have a talk with him when he comes ashore. No more boatloads for him, he’ll find. – What say, Lynn? I’m weak yet – not get in a passion?”

“It wouldn’t be wise,” whispered Stan.

“Well, perhaps not; but the thought of that fat, smooth, comfortable-looking poodle coming in here smiling and rubbing his hands puts me in a perspiration.”

“Perhaps he’ll be ashamed to show himself.”

“What!” cried Blunt. “Mao ashamed? You don’t know him. You see if he doesn’t come cringing in, just as if nothing had happened, to ask if there is a load ready for him to take down to the port. – What do you say, Lawrence?”

“The same as you do, sir.”

Half-an-hour later the matter discussed was put to the proof, for there was the soft, shuffling sound of a Chinaman’s boots in the passage, and the tindal of the boat in which Stan had arrived with Wing gave a gentle tap, pushed the door, and entered, smiling profusely and bowing to Blunt and Stan, before taking up his post half-way to the desks, hat in hand, waiting to be addressed.

Blunt heard him, but paid no heed for a minute or so; then looking up sternly, he saluted the man with a deep-toned —

“Well, sir, what do you want?”

“Come see when load leady fo’ Chee-ho boat.”

“How dare you come and ask after deserting us as you did? Why, we might have been all massacred, you cowardly scoundrel, for all you’d have done to save us. What have you got to say for yourself?”

“Me t’ink Chee-ho b’long me. If stop, pilate man flow ’tink-pot. Set fi’ and cuttee Mao float,” said the man deprecatingly.

“And so you set sail and got out of the way?”

“Yes. Velly fast. Chee-ho nicee big boat b’long me. Takee ca’e. Hold plenty tea-box, plenty silk. Bluntee want – ”

“Look here, you scoundrel,” cried the manager angrily; “I am Mr Blunt, your employer, and if you call me Bluntee again I’ll throw this ruler at you.”

As he spoke the manager caught his big ruler from the desk and made so fierce an “offer” with it that the Chinese boat-captain dropped upon his knees and bowed his head almost to the floor. “Get up!” shouted the manager. “No flow t’ick stick?” whined the man. “I will if you don’t get up this moment. Stand up like a man.”

“Oh deah!” said the shivering Chinaman, getting up slowly and painfully, and displaying a couple of great tears running down his fat cheeks. “Misteh Blunt wantee Mao stop havee float cut?”

“No, but to stay and help us, sir. How did you know but what we might want to escape in your boat down to Nang Ti?”

“Mao quite suah not do so. Know Misteh Blunt big man. Velly angly. Can’tee flighten um and makee lun away. Mao know he stop fightee.”

“And so you sailed away and left us in the lurch.”

“Yes. Pilate man velly dleadful. Killee evelybody and cut Mao head off. Cut all men and flow um ove’boa’d.”

“And so you ran away – eh?”

“Yes. Velly much aflaid. Mao tly save boatee fo’ Misteh Blunt. Boat b’long Mao.”

“Ah, well! you saved it.”

“Yes. Tookee long way. Sail up cleek. Hide till Mao quitee suah pilate junk allee gone ’way. Then come again. You got plenty bale plenty tea-box fo’ Mao take down livah – eh?”

“Be off!” said Blunt shortly. “I’ll think about it.”

“Yes, Misteh Blunt t’ink gleat deal. See Mao ’blige lun away. Chee-ho boat b’long Mao. No do let pilate buln, sink. B’long Mao – b’long Misteh Blunt – b’long evelybody.”

“Be off!” shouted Blunt; and the man went away, nodding and smiling, to join his crew upon the wharf.

“Shall you employ him any more?” said Stan as the door closed and the captain’s blue frock was seen to balloon out in the pleasant breeze as he marched complacently along the river-front.

“Oh yes,” replied Blunt. “He’s a very honest fellow, and can’t help being a thorough coward. Suppose I dismiss him, I shall have to engage another, who would possibly turn out dishonest and a greater humbug than this one.”

“But he seems to be utterly without courage.”

“Pooh! We all are at first. I was horribly frightened when we were attacked.”

“It didn’t seem like it,” said Stan, smiling.

“Oh no, of course not. I wasn’t going to let any one see what a stew I was in. That’s the result of education and one’s love of keeping up appearances. You owned to being frightened too – at first.”

“I was,” said Stan frankly. “Enough to make one.”

“Of course it was. But, you see, we’re Britons, and when a job of this sort comes to a head, why, we say, ‘Well, it’s no use to make any bones about it; the thing has to be done;’ and we do it as well as we can. And, as you see, the job was done.”

“Only half-done,” said Stan, with a sigh.

“What! I think it was splendidly well done. What do you mean by your ‘half-done’?”

“Why, you said the enemy would come back again.”

“Ye-es; so I did; but I don’t feel so sure now.”

“How is that?” asked Stan, impressed by his companion’s manner.

“Well, you see, one often judges how the weather is going to be by the behaviour of the animals about one. Birds, cattle, reptiles, insects, fish, if one studies them, give one hints of what sort of a season one is going to have. Chinese, too, are not slow in that way. You see Mao has come back.”

“Yes; but what has that to do with it?”

“A good deal. He has a sort of instinctive as well as experienced knowledge that the trouble is at an end, or else he wouldn’t have shown his nose here now. I shouldn’t wonder if he had a hint that the enemy were coming, some time before they arrived.”

“But if he had he would have warned you.”

“So he did, in a quiet sort of way, but I didn’t believe him. Yes, I begin to think that you gave the enemy such an awful thrashing – ”

“I?” cried Stan. “Why, I only carried out your orders.”

“And well, too, my lad; and as I was about to say when you interrupted me so rudely, you gave them such an awful thrashing that in the future they will look out for some nut to crack that has a thinner shell and leave us most carefully alone. Mao has come back, and that means the storm is well over.”

“But you’ll be well prepared in case they do come again?”

“Trust me, my lad. You and I will begin to play chess of an evening in future.”

“Have you a set of chess-men?”

“No; nor do I want them. We’ll make the hong our chess-board, and play the game of defiance with our brains.”

“I have some idea of what you mean,” said Stan, laughing, “but it is not quite clear.”

“I mean, we’ll set to and scheme how to meet our friends if they do come again. You see, one is sure to have warning. They can’t come down the river without; and I can’t help thinking that you and I ought to be able to contrive some kind of floating dodge which we could let down amongst the junks, and which would blow them up or set fire to them.”

“Yes; I see,” cried Stan eagerly. “Or why not try something with a big kite that we could drop down to explode on their decks. But of course I don’t know how.”

“There you are!” cried Blunt, clapping him on the back. “Bravo! The very thing!”

“Oh no,” said Stan quickly. “That was just the ghost of an idea.”

“True; but we’ll set to and make it something solid. The people here have wonderful kites, and I’ll be bound to say that you and I could contrive something chemical that we could send up and manage with a string till it was just over them, and then drop it where it would explode, so that it would scare them off even if it did not set fire to their junks. But wait a bit. We’ll see.”

“Yes; if you take it like that, I think we might contrive something. I say, why not some kind of torpedo that we could sink just off the wharf, connect it here with a wire, and have an electric battery to fire the charge? Why, if I had had such a thing here when the junks were all together off the place, I could have – ”

“Blown them to smithereens, my lad,” cried Blunt. “Bravo! And we’ll have a little gun, too, that we can work easily – one that will send explosive shells. There! that will do. I’m going to fill up an order for one battery of cells, thirteen as twelve torpedoes, so many yards of insulated wire, and – Here, I say, we ought out of common humanity to send word up the river to all pirates to make their wills before they come for their next attack.”

“Or put up a big hoarding with a notice written in Chinese for all who come up and down the river to read.”

“What about?”

“New patent steel traps and spring-guns are set in these grounds,” said Stan, laughing.

“All right, my lad. Joke away; but I’m on my mettle, and if we can’t contrive something better than walls and barricades of tea-chests and silk it’s very strange.”

“Well, we ought to, certainly.”

“And we will. Just think of what a lot of good stuff has been made absolutely worthless. There is, I should say, a couple or three hundred pounds’ worth of tea and silk – more perhaps – perfectly unsaleable.”

“Couldn’t you send it to market under another name?” said Stan, laughing.

“Name? What name?” growled Blunt contemptuously. “You can’t sell tea that has been exposed to fire. What would you call it – coffee?”