A MOVE UP COUNTRY
The two young fellows settled down easily to their new life at Shanghai.
Though they had been absent from China so long, the impressions of their
early years had not been obliterated, but were only overlaid by the
later impressions received in England. Thus they felt little of the
sense of strangeness which a man feels on coming into contact with what
is absolutely new to him. The narrow dirty streets, half the width of
an ordinary room, paved with stone slabs, and crowded all day long with
people chaffering in shrill voices, and picking their way through
immense heaps of fish, pork and vegetables; the low open shops,
displaying silks and porcelain, ornaments and bronzes, and a thousand
other varieties of merchandise more or less costly; the numerous
tea-shops and dining-rooms, more frequent even than public-houses in the
east end of London; the immense variety of smells, in which Shanghai
surely outrivals Cologne: all these features of the native city soon
ceased to have the charm of novelty; and the clean, well-paved,
well-tended quarters of the European community differed little in
general characteristics from the towns of the west.
The boys met with nothing but the friendliness which Europeans settled
abroad always extend to new-comers, and Errington in particular became a
great favourite. Mr. Burroughs insisted that he should live with him and
his family. Somewhat to Errington's surprise, he saw little of Mr.
Ting. The Chinaman had met him at the quay on the boat's arrival, but
after inquiring about the voyage, and promising to give him any
assistance he needed, he left him to Mr. Burroughs. Reinhardt passed
the group as he walked off the gangway, and Ted Burroughs noticed that
he gave Mr. Ting a markedly effusive greeting, which the Chinaman
returned politely and with an inscrutable smile.
Burroughs was vastly relieved when he learnt that Reinhardt was not
permanently stationed in Shanghai. The German was in charge of a branch
establishment of his firm at Sui-Fu, a populous treaty port many miles
up the river, and paid only occasional visits to head-quarters.
Errington never alluded to him, and Burroughs felt that he had perhaps
been a little over-hasty in misjudging a mere shipboard acquaintance.
His uneasiness returned, however, when, during a visit of a fortnight in
Shanghai, Reinhardt invited Errington to several card-parties, from
which he returned flushed and excited. Remembering the result of his
former expostulation, Burroughs said nothing; he felt that he could not
play the grandmother with his friend; but his disapproval was easily
seen, and for a day or two there was a slight coolness between them.
One day Mr. Ting met Errington in the street as if by chance: in reality
he had waylaid him.
"Getting on nicely?" he said.
"First chop," replied Errington, with a laugh: he had picked up some
pidgin English.
"That is good. You have many flends," said the Chinaman. "Good flends
are a delight in plospelity, and a stay in advessity. Bad flends--but of
course you have none. Leinhadt is, of course, no flend of yours."
"I rather think he is," said Errington, nettled at once. "Why do you
say that?"
"Well, you may eat with a flend, and talk to a flend, and play cards
with flends, at home; but the men you play cards with away from home,
they are not often flends."
"Look here, Mr. Ting, I don't understand what you are driving at. I
play cards with Mr. Reinhardt: you seem to know it; have you got
anything to say against it? Is he a card-sharper? Has he swindled you
or any one else? If he has, you'd better say so, and then I shall know
what to do."
"He has not swindled me, or any one else, that I can prove."
"Well then," cried the lad hotly, "I'll thank you to mind your own
business. You bored me with your sermons when I was a kid at school;
but I'm no longer a schoolboy, and I tell you flatly I won't be watched
and preached at by you, if you were ten times my father's friend. I'm
quite able to take care of myself."
"I could wish nothing better," said the Chinaman quietly. "I was your
father's flend, and I hope I shall always be yours."
Errington had already repented of his outburst, and Mr. Ting's dignified
reception of it made him feel ashamed of himself.
"Of course you are," he said. "I was always a hot-tempered brute; I'm
sorry."
And the two parted on the best of terms.
After about a year, when both Errington and Burroughs had began to get a
grip of their work, the former came home from the office one evening,
and seeking his chum in the little den they shared, said in a tone of
elation--
"I say, old man, I'm getting on. They're going to raise my screw and
transfer me to Sui-Fu.
"Under Reinhardt?" asked Burroughs quickly.
"Yes. I shouldn't wonder if he got me the crib. He has to be away a
great deal, and though there's a capable comprador, they seem to think a
European ought to be on the spot. I wish you were coming too."
"I should like it. It's a lift for you, Pidge, and I'm glad."
Errington talked on in his impulsive way about what he would do, and how
he would make things hum, while Burroughs listened and said little. He
had already made up his mind to go with Errington if possible; scarcely
confessing it even to himself, he wanted to keep an eye on his friend
when he came directly under the influence of the German; but he did not
wish to hint at the possibility of arranging a transfer for himself
until he had spoken to his father.
Late that night, when the rest had retired, he went to his father's
study.
"Well, Ted, what is it?" said Mr. Burroughs, looking up from some
papers.
"I'd like to go up with Pidge if you can manage it, Dad," replied the
boy, coming straight to the point.
"You would, eh? What an excitable fellow he is, Ted! He talked about
nothing else at dinner--or hardly anything, and it's all done so
pleasantly you can't resent it. Well, you want to go: any particular
reason?"
"Well, you see, we've always been together, and ... Dad, why do people
dislike Reinhardt?"
"Off at a tangent, aren't you? I think it's a case of 'I do not like
thee, Dr. Fell; the reason why I cannot tell.' Some say he's got a
brute of a temper behind his pleasant manner, and he's rather fond of
cards; but I never heard any definite charge against him."
"Well, I detest the fellow, and I don't like to think of Pidge
constantly in his company. You've seen enough of Pidge to know what I
mean, dad, so I'm not giving him away. He's a jolly good sort, the best
of pals, wouldn't do a dirty trick to any one; but he's hasty, makes
friends too easily, thinks every one is as decent as himself----"
"In short, you think he wants looking after."
"Oh, I'm not ass enough to want to hold him on a lead; but I do think if
I were with him I might be useful. You see, if Reinhardt is a bad egg,
and Pidge finds it out, he'll never look at him again--if he doesn't
give him a kicking by way of good-bye. If I'm on the spot, I can keep
my eye on the fellow, and perhaps open Pidge's eyes in time. Can't you
shift me to your branch there?"
"You would have gone there anyhow in course of time, so if you're set on
it I shan't raise any objection. It won't do you any harm to be in
charge of a branch, and with Sing Wen there--a capital fellow--you won't
have the chance to make many mistakes. We'll consider that settled,
then."
"Thanks, Dad; I thought you'd agree. Pidge will be glad: he said he
wished I was coming too."
"He won't resent the curb, eh?"
"He won't feel it if I can help it. He's very touchy, and I learnt a
lesson on the boat. Good-night, Dad."
"Good-night, old man. By the way, in case I forget it when you go,
always carry a revolver with you up there, but never use it except as a
last resort. That's a good working rule for a European in an up-river
district. Good-night."
Another person besides Ted Burroughs was uneasy at the prospective
transference of Errington to Sui-Fu. Mr. Ting, who knew everything that
was going on, or at least as much as he wished to know, heard of it as
soon as it was decided, and would have taken some trouble to prevent it
if he could have urged anything definite against the character of
Reinhardt. But he was a very discreet person. He had reasons of his
own for maintaining cordial relations with Errington, and reflected that
even at a distance he could still find means of looking after him. And
when he learnt that Burroughs was to accompany his chum he felt more at
ease; he had great confidence in the steady, down-right Mole.
Reinhardt invited the boys to go up river in his motor-launch, a very
powerful vessel in which he made his journeys between Shanghai and
Sui-Fu. The launch had been bought out of the German navy as a
condemned vessel; but some people remarked that if the Germans could
afford to condemn vessels of this kind, their navy must be even more
"tip-top" than was supposed. As the boys intended to take their
hydroplane to their new quarters, they declined Reinhardt's invitation,
resolving to follow in the wake of the launch and test the relative
speed of the two vessels.
The hydroplane was now by no means identical in appearance with the
vessel that had roused a passing curiosity at Plymouth. During the year
they had been in China the boys had devoted all their spare time to
turning it into a hydro-aeroplane. They replaced the original hull with
a much lighter frame of canvas, fitting a kite-shaped half-keel under
its forward part. They kept their engine, but adapted it to work two
propellers, one at the stern, below the water-line, for driving the
vessel through the water; the other raised some feet above the forepart,
for driving it through the air. To the sides they fitted floats, and
large planes, capable of being folded back when the vessel was to be
used as a hydroplane, and adjustable at various angles. By means of
differential gearing they contrived that the power of the water screw
could be gradually reduced, while the air tractor gained in the same
proportion. The effect of their arrangements was that as the speed in
the water increased, the vessel rose a little; then, bringing into play
an elevator and the tractor, they made the vessel rise completely out of
the water and behave in all respects as an aeroplane.
The flying boat, as it came to be known in Shanghai, gave them at first
as much trouble as it gave amusement to their friends. Their early
experiments with the new model were exasperating. They found that they
could rise above the water for a short distance, but then fell, not
always gently, and sometimes with anything but pleasant consequences to
themselves and the machine. More than once they had diverted the
spectators on the bank by having to swim for it, and subsequently to
fish up the machine from the bottom. They had never yet risked a flying
experiment in deep water; but the good-humoured advice of their friends
to let the boat remain a boat only made them the more determined to
succeed.
The journey up the great "outside old river," as their Chinese servants
called it, was full of interest to the young traders. At first so wide
as to seem rather a sea than a river, six hundred miles from its mouth
it was still nearly a mile wide, crowded with fine cargo steamers, and
innumerable native junks, rafts, lorchas and cormorant boats, conveying
the produce of the interior to the various treaty ports. They passed
large riverside villages teeming with an industrious population: then
came into vast stretches of swamp choked with reed-beds, beyond which
the country for miles presented an unbroken vista of forest, or of
luxuriant crops. Here clustered a village almost at the edge of the
stream, the quaint pagoda-like houses raised several feet above the
level, behind stone or brick embankments, necessary in time of flood.
At another place the houses were perched on a cliff, nestling
picturesquely among trees and shrubs. Between Ichang and Chung-king they
entered a region of rock-strewn rapids, which, however, were now partly
obscured by the summer floods. The river here swirled seaward at the
rate of from seven to ten knots, forming dangerous whirlpools, and
needing skilful navigation. Reinhardt had performed the journey many
times, and his crew were familiar with every part of the course. The
launch thrashed its way against the current, and the hydroplane had no
difficulty in following in its wake, escaping the full force of the
enormous volume of water by skimming the surface. In mere speed it was
the superior craft.
Reinhardt had not been very well pleased when he learnt that Burroughs
was to join his friend. He was too astute not to be aware that the boy
disliked him; but he was also too astute to betray his consciousness of
it, and his manner towards Burroughs was if anything even more
conciliatory and gracious than to other people. On the day of their
departure, when they met at the quayside, he greeted him with the
effusiveness of an old friend; and after their arrival at Sui-Fu, seemed
to lay himself out to please. But the more pleasant he was, the more
distrustful Burroughs became; and the younger man was always annoyed
with himself because he feared he only imperfectly concealed his real
feelings.
Sui-Fu was a large city at the junction of the Min and the Chin-sha
rivers, which unite to form the Yang-tse-kiang. It was a busy place,
and contained a considerable European community, whose houses stood in
wooded grounds on the river bank. After spending a few days in the
English consul's bungalow, the two friends started a little chummery
near the river--a sitting-room, and a bedroom apiece, with a compound
and outbuildings for their native servants. In addition to a cook and a
man-of-all-work, they had each a personal servant. The two Chinamen
soon cordially hated each other, as is the rule in such cases; but
neither had any dislike for the other's master. Lo San, Errington's
man, was just as attentive and respectful to Burroughs as his own man,
Chin Tai. The Englishmen more than once had to intervene between the
two Chinamen when they were fighting with their feet and nails, and they
threatened at last to dismiss them both if they could not keep the
peace. The threat was effective so far as it prevented fights and
shrill abuse; but the masters would have been amused, perhaps, if they
could have seen how the servants in their own quarters managed to
express their hate without making a noise.
There was a difference between the positions of the two boys at Sui-Fu,
inasmuch as Burroughs was nominally head of his branch, whereas
Errington was only an assistant to Reinhardt. But it turned out that
the German was very often absent, travelling inland in various
directions. He appeared to have an extensive acquaintance among Chinese
viceroys and other high officials, and had a very large personal
correspondence, which apparently had no relationship to the business of
his firm. The result was that a great deal of the routine work of the
office was left to Errington, who in a short time had practically as
much responsibility as Burroughs. The two branches were in a sense
competitors--that is to say, they dealt in the same class of goods, and
bargained with the same merchants and dealers. But thanks to the
personal relationship between the two Englishmen, their firms, so far as
the branches at Sui-Fu were concerned, acted in concert, to their mutual
benefit, because the Chinese merchants were unable to play one off
against the other.
One day, after the conclusion of a certain transaction between Burroughs
and a cotton-grower, Reinhardt remarked dryly to Errington that Ehrlich
Soehne had lost a chance of making a considerable profit.
"I dare say," said Errington quickly, "but Burroughs and I must either
work together, or definitely work against each other. If we are going
to cut each other's throats I'd better go back to Shanghai."
"Nonsense, my dear fellow: nozink farzer from my soughts. You do very
well; only I am vexed to lose good business."
The matter dropped. Reinhardt found Errington too useful to be willing
to quarrel with him. But a little later he let fall a hint that if
Errington held his tongue, it would be possible to carry through certain
business deals from time to time without Burroughs' knowledge. Vague as
the hint was, it disgusted Errington, and he felt a dawning distrust of
Reinhardt; but the German, quick to read him, laughed it off as a joke,
saying that no one could suppose that Damon and Pythias could for a
moment be separated. Errington did not mention these matters to his
friend, from a reluctance to admit that Burroughs' opinion of Reinhardt
was justified.
It was soon evident to them both that Reinhardt, however much he might
be disliked by the community at Shanghai, enjoyed somewhat unusual
privileges. His frequent absences were known to his principals, and he
made many visits to Shanghai and Kiauchou--visits which Errington, who
had good means of judging, knew were not connected with the business. A
little light was thrown on the matter by Burroughs' comprador, who told
his master one day that he had a brother whose brother-in-law kept an
opium den at a small town a few miles up the river. Opium-smoking was
forbidden in China, but, like gambling and lotteries and other
prohibited things, it was winked at by the local mandarins in many parts
of the country, in consideration of heavy bribes. Reinhardt's launch
was often seen anchored off the place, sometimes when he had gone there
ostensibly to transact business with a cloth-dealer, at other times as a
stage in his longer journeys. He had not the appearance of a victim of
the opium habit, and Burroughs concluded that he gave way to occasional
bouts, of which the effects were temporary.