ERRINGTON MAKES A FRIEND
Pierce Errington, known at school as Pidge, was the son of a Shanghai
merchant who at one time had been reputed to be the wealthiest European
in China. But Mr. Errington was his own worst enemy. Generous and
impulsive, he lacked balance; and though he had a positive genius for
business, at times his business faculties seemed to desert him, and he
showed a rashness and audacity in speculative ventures that amazed his
friends. While his wife lived, this trait was not allowed to
over-assert itself, but after her death he became more and more
reckless, and ultimately lost almost all his fortune in one black year.
When he died suddenly of heart failure, it was found that he had left
just enough to complete his only son's education, and to provide the boy
with a trifle of pocket-money when he went out into the world.
Pierce was twelve years old, and at a preparatory school in England, at
the time of his father's death. He was committed to the guardianship of
a distant relative, a merchant in the City, who fulfilled his trust with
scrupulous honour, but with no excess of kindness. Pierce became very
sick of hearing from his guardian, at least once a term and more often
during the holidays, that he had no prospects, and must look to himself
for his future. "I'm a self-made man," the merchant would say proudly;
and Pierce, when he was a public school-boy and began to have ideas of
his own, would think: "A precious bad job you made of it."
Mr. Errington's oldest friend was a fellow merchant in Shanghai. John
Burroughs was a plodder. He might never be so rich as Errington, but
certainly he would never be so poor. He had often tried to check his
friend's wildest speculations, and then Errington would laugh, and thank
him, and say that it was no good. The two men were about the same age,
and their sons were born within a few months of each other. When the
time came for them to go to England for education, the boys were sent to
the same preparatory school, and entered at the same public school.
They had been companions since babyhood, and the friendship between the
fathers seemed to be only intensified in the sons. They were the
greatest chums, and being equally good at sports and their books, they
had kept pace with each other through the schools, and reached the sixth
and the dignity of prefect at Cheltonia together. Each was now in his
eighteenth year, and neither had been back to China since they left it,
eight years before.
During those eight years, Errington had received very regular letters
from a correspondent who signed himself Ting Chuh. At first these
letters bored him; as he grew older they amused him; and latterly they
had given rise to a certain perplexed curiosity. Why did Ting Chuh take
so great an interest in him? Why was he continually poking his funny
old proverbs at him? "An ox with a ring in his nose--so is the steady
man." "Remember never to feel after a pin on the bottom of the ocean."
"It is folly to covet another man's horse and to lose your own ox."
Sentences like these occurred in all Mr. Ting's letters--all warning him
against attempting impossibilities, or leaving the substance for the
shadow, or letting his impulses run away with him. Of course Errington
knew that Mr. Ting had occupied a special position in his father's
household, and he remembered vaguely that he had been quite fond of
Tingy in his early years; but he was at a loss to understand why the
Chinaman appeared to have constituted himself his moral guardian--why he
sent for copies of all his school reports, and wrote him such
exceedingly dull comments on them. "But he's a good sort," he would say
to himself, and forget the homily and Mr. Ting until the next letter
arrived.
Ting Chuh had made money while Mr. Errington lost it, through sheer
native shrewdness and industry. The relations between master and man
were very close and confidential. On Mr. Errington's death, Mr. Ting
set up for himself in business, and acquired wealth with wonderful
rapidity; everybody trading on the China coast knew him and trusted him,
except some few "mean whites" who were incapable of any decent feeling
towards a Chinaman. He had now taken advantage of a business visit to
London to call upon the boy in whose welfare he was more deeply
interested than the boy himself knew. The time was approaching when
Errington must leave school, and Mr. Ting had certain private reasons
for wishing to judge by personal observation what manner of man had
developed from the little boy of ten whom he had last seen on the deck
of a home-going liner.
Errington's uneasy forebodings as to the result of the Chinaman's
appearance at the tea-table were agreeably dispelled. Mr. Ting was the
hero of the hour. He talked fluently, with an occasional quaintness of
expression that lent a charm to his conversation; and when it came out
casually that his business in England had involved several interviews
with the Foreign Secretary, he went up as high in the estimation of the
prefects as his athletic feat had carried him with the younger boys.
Moreover, at his departure he showed himself very generous and
discriminating in the way of tips, and he was voted a jolly good sort by
the school. He was particularly cordial in his good-bye to Ted
Burroughs.
"I hope to see you again befo'e long," he said, "and I thank you for yo'
kindness."
The summer ran its course. Just before the holidays Errington and
Burroughs each received a letter from China that filled them at once
with regret and with excitement. Mr. Burroughs wrote that Ted was to
return to Shanghai and take his place in the business. Errington's
letter was from Mr. Ting.
MY DEAR LAD,
You have now completed your book learning, and it is time to fill your
own kettle with rice, as we say. With approval of your guardian, I have
obtained for you a post in the great company of Ehrlich Soehne, who have
manifold activities, and lots of branches in all parts of China. With
them you will gain valuable experience of intrinsic excellence. You
will not be blind fowl picking after worms. Your friend Mole is to come
to China next month; I vote you come with him, for pleasant company
shortens the longest road. You will have liberal allowance for outfit,
for as your proverb says, do not spoil ship for ha'porth of tar. Until
I see you, then, I write myself your true friend,
TING CHUH.
No boy likes to leave school, but the regrets of the two friends were
tempered by their anticipation of novel scenes and fresh experiences.
They were delighted at the prospect of going out together, and found
themselves looking forward eagerly to the end of the term. One day an
advertisement of the North German Lloyd caught Errington's eye.
"I say, Moley, I vote we go out on a German ship," he said to Burroughs.
"It will be a jolly sight more interesting than a British ship, and we
shall get a good deal of sport in studying the funny foreigner."
Burroughs agreed, and in due time they booked their passage on the
_Prinz Eitel Friedrich_. It did not occur to them that the "funny
foreigner" might also find some interest in studying them; but after
certain exciting experiences which befell them during the next two
years, they remarked on the strange consequences that came of a single
advertisement in the _Times_.
They joined the vessel at Plymouth, and would perhaps have attracted no
attention among their fellow-passengers but for a somewhat unusual
object among their belongings. Burroughs, unlike Errington, had always
enjoyed plenty of pocket-money, and being fond of boating, he had bought
first a skiff for use on the river during holidays and then a small
motor launch. Just before leaving school he had happened to see a
hydroplane in the Solent, and it occurred to him that he and Errington,
when they got to China, would find such a vessel useful, or at least
exciting, on the Yang-tse-kiang. Accordingly he exchanged his launch for
a small speedy hydroplane of the best type: and the novel vessel aroused
a certain curiosity in some of the passengers as they saw it lowered
into the hold.
For a day or two after quitting port they kept pretty much to
themselves, exchanging notes about their fellow-passengers, and finding
some amusement in watching their deportment in the dining-saloon. One
man in particular engaged their attention. He was a German of florid
aspect, with hair cut short and standing up brush-like, and a thick
brown moustache which he evidently took some pains in training a la
Kaiser. This was not so uncommon as to mark him out for special notice;
but the boys observed, after a few days, that this man, though
possessing the most engaging manners, seemed to be somewhat shunned by
the rest of the German passengers. They did not actually cut him, but
they appeared to hold themselves aloof. He belonged to none of the sets
into which passengers on a long voyage invariably split up; he was never
invited to join their card-parties. The vague impression formed by the
boys was that the Germans felt a sort of distrust for their compatriot.
The only man on board who appeared to admit him to terms of intimacy was
a German major-general who was proceeding to Kiau-chou, the German
settlement. These two were often to be seen of an evening under the
awning on the foredeck, remote from the other passengers, conversing in
low tones, though with no appearance of secrecy.
One evening, after dinner, the boys were leaning over the rail, idly
watching the incandescent play upon the surface of the sea, when the
German sauntered past them, turned, and made a pleasant remark about the
charming weather. He spoke English very well, with scarcely anything to
reveal his nationality except the customary difficulty with the _th_.
There was something attractive about the man, and Errington, seeing that
he seemed disposed to continue the conversation, offered him a
cigarette, and invited him to place a deck-chair beside those which the
boys had opened for themselves.
"I zink I may almost call myself an old friend," said the German. "Am I
mistaken, or are you ze son of ze late Mr. Herbert Errington, of
Shanghai?"
"Yes; did you know him?" asked Errington.
"He was a great friend of mine: you are very much like him. His death"
(he pronounced the word "dess") "was a blow to me. And you, Mr.
Burroughs--I hope I may call myself a friend also, if your fazer is Mr.
John Burroughs of ze same town."
"Yes," said the Mole simply.
"I am charmed to meet you," said the German cordially. "Your fazer's
firm is concurrent wiz mine. You have been long absent, at school, no
doubt; and you, Mr. Errington, will not remember me; ze years wipe out
early impressions; but when you were a child I saw you often when I
visited my old friend, your fazer. My name is Conrad Reinhardt."
"I don't recall it," said Errington, "but then I was only a kid when I
left Shanghai. We've been at school, as you guessed, Mr. Reinhardt, and
we're going back now to start work."
"Ah yes, ze days of school must end. Zey are good days, especially ze
sport. You will find good golf in Shanghai. No doubt you go to join
Mr. Burroughs?"
"The Mole does--Ted, you know: we called him the Mole at school because
he's Burroughs; but I'm going to a German firm: of course you know
them--Ehrlich Soehne."
Burroughs was a trifle annoyed that his companion was so communicative:
but "It's just like Pidge," he said to himself.
"Indeed!" said the German, in response to Errington's last remark. "Zat
is my own firm. I am delighted zat I shall have you for a colleague.
It is a good firm: naturally I say so; but every one says ze same. You
will have opportunities zat few ozer firms can offer. Zere are great
prospects."
He proceeded to dilate upon the vast business conducted by his firm;
their transactions in silk and cotton and grass-cloth fibre; their
difficulties with the Customs and with river pirates, and so on,
incidentally giving many descriptions of the ways of Chinamen, which the
boys listened to with interest.
"You know Mr. Ting, of course?" said Errington presently.
"Ting Chuh? oh yes, of course," replied the German; and Burroughs,
closely observant, noticed a scarcely perceptible constraint in his
manner. "An excellent man of business; a little difficult, perhaps. I
remember, he was your fazer's comprador, Mr. Errington. You have nozink
now to do wiz him?"
"Not officially, if that's what you mean: but he's kept up a
correspondence with me, and it was he that got me this crib with your
firm."
"Indeed! Zen zat is a great compliment to ze firm, and, if I may say
so, also to you. Ting is a good man of business, highly respected. To
place you wiz us shows zat he has a great opinion of us, and also of
you. Zis information interests me extremely."
From this time forth Mr. Reinhardt was often in the boys' company. He
was always very pleasant, and they wondered more and more why the
majority of the passengers avoided him. But when he began to teach
Errington some card games of which he had never before heard, Burroughs
felt uneasy. On the first occasion, when he was asked to join them, he
declined, and they did not ask him again. Knowing how easily Errington
was led, and remembering indications of his having inherited his
father's propensity for speculation, he ventured one night to enter a
mild protest.
"I say, Pidge," he said, "I don't think I'd play cards much with
Reinhardt if I were you."
"Why on earth not? Sixpence is our highest stake: are you afraid of my
ruining myself?"
"Of course not, but--well, Reinhardt isn't liked on board; there may be
something shady about him."
"Come, that's dashed unfair. You know nothing against the man. For
goodness' sake, don't get starchy and puritanical."
The natural boy's horror of seeming preachy or priggish kept Burroughs
from saying more; but his manner towards the German grew chilly, and he
could not help noticing that Errington was somewhat nettled at his
friendly warning. One day, for his own satisfaction, he put a question
bluntly to the captain, with whom he was on good terms.
"Do you know anything against Herr Reinhardt?" he asked.
The Captain fingered his beard before he replied.
"No," he said slowly, "I _know_ nothing. But don't let your friend
become too thick with him."
Burroughs went away less satisfied than before, and watched the growing
intimacy with more and more uneasiness.