MR. TING EXPLAINS
The adventures and misadventures of the flying boat are, for the
present, ended; but there are certain scenes in the history of the human
characters of this little drama which may perhaps have an interest for
those who have followed their fortunes hitherto.
On the day after the arrival of Burroughs and Errington in Sui-Fu, very
early in the morning, Chin Tai came to his master's bedroom door and
knocked with much more vigour than usual.
"What is it?" Burroughs shouted from within.
"Time fo' gettee up, sah," called the man, grinning at the can of
shaving water he carried.
"What time is it?"
"No savvy allo plopa; time fo' gettee up all-same."
"It's hardly light, confound you! Didn't I tell you I wanted a long
sleep?"
"Plenty muchee solly, sah; time fo' gettee up. One piecee fella outside
come look-see Massa Bullows; he say he no can wailo[#] befo' he hab
talkee cash pidgin[#] 'long-side Massa Bullows."
[#] Go away.
[#] Money matters.
"Send him to Sing Wen. You know perfectly well I don't do business in
bed, you ass. Any more of this foolo pidgin and you'll get the sack."
"Massa no unastan'," cried Chin Tai excitedly. "This piecee man he say
he come look-see Sing Wen evely day-lo; Sing Wen say he no can makee
anyting fo' he; he muss waitee fo' massa come back."
"Who is the blackguard?"
"He velly 'spectable fella, sah; he belongey opium shop-lo Pa-tang
side."
"Oh! That's quite enough. Tell him to get out; I've nothing to do with
him or his opium."
"My tellum all that, sah; he say he stop plenty longee time; massa no
look-see he, ch'hoy! he cut float on door-step all-same."
Extravagant as this threat might appear, Burroughs knew that it was by
no means unheard-of for a Chinaman, smarting under a sense of injustice,
to commit suicide on the threshold of the man who had injured him. He
was considering whether he had not better get up and prevent the horrid
deed, when Errington, who occupied the next room, came in by the
communicating door.
"You're in for it, old chap," he said, laughing. "The receiver's as bad
as the thief, you know, and there's going to be trouble about that
moustache of yours."
He picked up the moustache from the dressing-table, and dangled it
before Burroughs' disgusted eyes.
"Hang it all!" cried Burroughs, "I had absolutely nothing to do with it.
Sing Wen is the culprit."
"Qui facit per alium----"
"Oh, shut up! He wasn't my agent."
"You'll find it hard to prove that after giving him a hundred dollars.
Better see the fellow and save scandal. I'll stand by you, Moley."
Burroughs got out of bed, muttering anathemas, threw on his
dressing-gown, and went to the door, followed by Errington. The sight of
the grinning China boy waiting there with his shaving-can exasperated
him, and Chin Tai shrank against the wall before his master's glare.
They went down-stairs. On the step at the outer door squatted the sleek
form of the highly respectable brother-in-law of Sing Wen's brother. He
rose and kow-towed humbly.
"Now, what do you want?" said Burroughs sternly.
"My velly solly come this time wakee up hon'ble genelum," said the man.
"My catchee plenty smart inside. Sing Wen he pay-lo hantun[#] dolla fo'
Toitsche genelum moustachee. Mandalin he makee my pay-lo hantun dolla
squeeze.[#] My catchee nuffin, losee my numpa one cutsoma; he no
belongey my shop no mo'e. Hai! plenty bad pidgin. Wuss pidgin all-same.
My pay-lo barber fella tin[#] dolla fo' fixee moustachee. My losee
hantun dolla one time, 'nother time tin dolla; my tinkee hon'ble genelum
pay-lo tin dolla, my wailo all plopa inside."
[#] Hundred.
[#] Fine.
[#] Ten.
"That's only fair," said Errington in a laughing undertone to Burroughs.
"You don't want the poor chap to be absolutely out of pocket over the
business."
"It might be worse," growled Burroughs. "I'll give you a chit[#] to Sing
Wen to pay you ten dollars. That'll satisfy you?"
[#] Note.
"My savvy hon'ble genelum numpa one fella," cried the delighted man,
bowing to the ground.
"I say, what'll you give me for this?" asked Errington, producing the
moustache from behind his back.
The Chinaman stared. His eyes gleamed.
"Hai! My pay-lo fifty dolla," he exclaimed. "Takee wailo tin dolla,
forty dolla lef behind." He opened his money pouch and counted out the
notes. "My savvy catchee plenty good pidgin, galaw!"
"Don't offer it to Mr. Reinhardt, you know," said Errington, as the man
pocketed the moustache.
"My savvy plopa pidgin," said the man with a leer, and shuffled away.
Reinhardt had a very unpleasant quarter of an hour with Su Fing on the
chief's arrival at Meichow. Explain, protest as he might, the rebel
refused to believe him, and accused him (unkindest cut of all) of
voluntarily transferring his moustache to Burroughs for the purpose of
deception. But Reinhardt was a German, and therefore personally
inviolate. Su Fing sent him ignominiously down the river, expressing
with ironic courtesy his ardent wish that his moustache would never grow
less.
Reinhardt would gladly have gone into retirement until he could once
more show a German face to the world. Unhappily, within a week a
peremptory message from his firm summoned him to Shanghai. His
appearance in the European quarter was the reverse of triumphant. Some
old acquaintances affected not to recognize him; others addressed him in
such tones of mournful sympathy that he could hardly control his rage.
The story had already got about, and when he entered the Club (for he
did not lack courage) the air of kindly commiseration with which he was
greeted drove him frantic. The younger members of the club talked among
themselves of getting up a subscription for the purchase of a new
moustache. In a few days his dressing-table was littered with a great
variety of infallible hair-growers. The directors of Ehrlich Soehne
said very unpleasant things of the ridicule he was reflecting on the
firm. There were bets in the Club that he would stand it for ten days;
but nobody grudged paying up when, at the end of a week, it was known
that he had taken passage for Hamburg. There was a vast crowd to see him
off, and this evidence of his popularity gained him the good-will of the
uninformed passengers until the story leaked out on board the liner. His
voyage home was not pleasant.
The last that was heard of Conrad Reinhardt was a story from the German
Cameroons. He had got into bad odour with the natives, and one day
disappeared. Several persons, probably innocent, were punished; but he
was soon forgotten.
Lo San and Chin Tai had behaved very well during the time of stress in
which their lives and their masters' hung in the balance. But when they
returned to the routine of service at Sui-Fu, their daily bickerings
were resumed. Chin Tai's animosity was fed by the substantial present
with which Errington rewarded Lo San's devotion. Lo San, it must be
confessed, was very exasperating. In the midst of a wordy war with his
fellow-servant he would twit him with his ignorance and want of
enterprise. He took a delight in displaying to the cook and other
domestics, in Chin Tai's presence, the card tricks by means of which he
had paid his way to Meichow.
On one of these occasions the two came to blows, which in China does not
mean fist-play in the approved British style, but includes the use of
finger-nails and boots, and very painful handling of the pigtail. The
yells of combatants and spectators in the kitchen reached the ears of
the masters in the dining-room.
"We shall really have to sack those fellows," said Burroughs. "It is
getting intolerable."
"Let us go and knock their heads together first," said Errington. "I
should be sorry to lose Lo San."
"He's not a patch on Chin Tai at looking after one's clothes," said
Burroughs, loyal to his man.
"But Lo San's heaps better in serving at table."
"He can't polish boots."
"Chin Tai can't clean a gun."
"Well, hadn't we better have it out ourselves first?" said Burroughs,
laughing. "Great Scott! there'll be murder soon. Come on, Pidge."
They hastened to the kitchen. The two boys had each other by the
pigtail with one hand, and with the other were drawing streaks on each
other's face. Burroughs dragged them apart.
"Hai! You piecee ruffians! What fo' you makee this infernal bobbely?"
he said.
"He call me foolo!"
"He say my plenty muchee fathead!"
"He say my no can do card-pidgin!"
"He say my tellum plenty lies, talkee foolo pidgin all time."
"Hold your tongues, both of you!" cried Burroughs. "Chin Tai, if you
can't keep the peace, I'll cut off your pigtail and send you home to
your grandmother."
"Massa say muss belongey good up outside olo ribber, can do plenty
fightee wailo Sui-Fu," Chin Tai protested with an aggrieved air.
"But I said you were to fight quietly, not yell the house down. Now I
forbid you to fight at all, do you understand?"
"You too, Lo San," said Errington. "No more of it, or off you go."
"My fightee he inside," said Lo San.
"My callee he plenty bad namee--inside," said Chin Tai.
"Well, what you do inside is nothing to me," said Burroughs, repressing
a smile. "Perhaps if you take care to behave outside, you'll be friends
inside by and by."
There was no more fighting; the peace of the house was no more
disturbed; but while China boys are China boys, Lo San and Chin Tai will
never cease to look jealously upon each other as long as they serve two
masters whom they equally respect.
Some three weeks after the escape from Su Fing's yamen, a pleasant
little party sat at table in the dining-room of Mr. Burroughs' house at
Shanghai. Mr. Burroughs and his family were there; the only guests were
Pierce Errington and Mr. Ting. They were all very merry. Four of the
party heard the full story of the flying boat's adventures for the first
time, and as Errington had a pretty art of humorous narrative, there was
much laughter at the tale of Reinhardt's moustache and the vicissitudes
in the career of Chung Pi.
When Mrs. Burroughs and her daughter--whom Errington looked on very
kindly--had left the men to themselves, Mr. Ting put on his spectacles.
"Look out!" Errington whispered to Burroughs. "There's something in the
wind when Tingy puts on the goggles."
Mr. Ting glanced benevolently round the table, his eyes resting with
peculiar intensity on Errington--the old Pidge whom everybody loved,
with not a care upon his clear, fresh countenance. Lighting a
cigarette, the Chinaman said quietly--
"I have something to say. It is a stlange stoly; it concerns Pidge, but
he will not mind, I know, if I speak befo' his flends."
Errington looked a little uneasy.
"Look out!" whispered Burroughs slyly.
"Ten years ago," Mr. Ting went on, "when Pidge was a little boy of nine,
my flend and master, Mr. Ellington, called me into his loom one day and
said to me, 'We have done well over that deal in cotton, Ting. I've
made a velly fine thing out of it. But you know what I am. I am a lich
man to-day, but I can't cure myself of this mania for speculation, and
as likely as not I'll be a poor man to-mollow. I want you to help me.
Here's ten thousand pounds, put it away; never lemind me of it; if I ask
you fol it, don't give it me. I hand it to you in tlust fo' me and my
son. If I'm blought to beggaly, pay me the intelest; if I die, hold it
fo' my boy. Watch over him, bling him out here for a year or two; if
then you see that he inhelits my fatal weakness, pay over the intelest,
but never let him touch the plincipal.'"
He paused. The three men's eyes were fixed on him; a flush had mantled
Errington's cheek.
"'But if my boy, when he leaves school,'" Mr. Ting continued, "'turns
out well, the sort of fellow that can be tlusted to make good use of the
money, give it him; it will give him a good start.' That is what my
flend said to me.
"I have done what he wished. You wondered, Pierce, why I sent you such
velly tilesome letters; you thought Ting a nuisance----"
"Sir!" Errington expostulated, but the Chinaman smiled and raised his
hand for silence.
"I was doing what I thought my flend would like. But that is over; the
school-days are past. I have kept the tlust; the money is well
invested, it is nearly twenty thousand now; the time has come fo' me to
give account of it."
"Perhaps you had rather be left alone with Mr. Ting, my lad," said Mr.
Burroughs kindly.
"No, sir; please stay. You were my father's friend too, and the
Mole-----"
Mr. Ting noted the look that was exchanged between the two--a look in
which spoke affection and perfect confidence.
"No one else knows of this," he said. "I only made plovision for the
devolution of the tlust if I should die; I ventured to tlansfer it to
you, Mr. Bullows."
"I appreciate your confidence, Mr. Ting," said Mr. Burroughs warmly.
"But I have made up my mind that it is the ploper time to tlansfer the
money to Pidge himself. He has been here more than a year; he has a
good head fo' business, evely one says so; and I think his father would
applove my action. A little while--may I say it?"--Errington answered
with a glance--"a little while I was aflaid that I might still have to
hold the money, and pay only the intelest; but I think--I am light, am I
not?----"
"I promised Ted," murmured Errington.
Mr. Ting's spectacles seemed to gleam with satisfaction and benevolence.
He took from his pocket a large envelope which he handed to Errington.
"There is your father's tlust-deed," he said. "It is flom this day
cancelled. There is also sclip, value nearly twenty thousand pounds.
The best of blessings is a good son."
He took off his spectacles and carefully replaced them in their case.
The silence was broken by Mr. Burroughs.
"I congratulate you with all my heart," he said, reaching out his hand
to Errington.
"Jolly glad, old chap!" said the Mole.
Errington took the envelope, and shook hands with his friends, in the
confusion of utter amazement. He laid the envelope beside his plate,
then rose with the impulsive haste so characteristic of him, walked
round the table, and clasped the hand of Mr. Ting.
"Forgive me, sir. I don't know what to say. You and the Mole are the
best friends any man could have, and--and----"
He could say no more.
Lying wakeful that night, Errington thought over the past, and looked
humbly into the future. What was he to do with this fortune which the
love of a father and the loyalty of a friend had secured to him? Before
he slept he had made up his mind. Mr. Burroughs was a sound, plodding
man of business; not wealthy; unable to develop his business for want of
capital. What better could he do than invest the money with him, as the
price of a partnership? He knew his own capacity; he had never a doubt
that the work he could put in would justify itself; and if only Mr.
Burroughs would consent, Errington was sure that the future would prove
the wisdom of his step.
So it fell out. The style of the firm became Burroughs & Errington.
The two younger partners managed jointly the branch at Sui-Fu, and the
business grew by leaps and bounds. Their friendship was never clouded
by the least shadow, though in course of time Burroughs declared one day
in jest that his nose would soon be put out of joint--when Mrs.
Errington appeared on the scene. Lo San looked forward to this event
with the most ardent approval, for when "Massa Bullows" left the house,
he hoped to see the last of Chin Tai.
One day, Chin Tai announced a visitor. "Velly big fat China fella, sah,"
he said, with a gravity behind which his master detected a sly amusement
"inside."
"Show him in," he said.
The door opened to admit Chung Pi, bigger and more prosperous-looking
than ever, and--what was this?--actually sporting a mandarin's buttons.
He greeted Burroughs with great heartiness, and a touch of the
self-importance that beseemed his new rank. After complimentary
salutations, he addressed Burroughs in a speech of some length, not
giving Chin Tai time to translate as he went along.
"What's it all about?" asked Burroughs, when he came to an end.
"He say he tank hon'ble genelum velly muchee. No can tink what fo' he
belongey flend one time that mislable olo outside fella Su Fing. He
velly big glanty[#] fightee man; empelor say he muss wailo catchee Su
Fing, fightee bad fella all plopa. Chung Pi he go makee what empelor
say, catchee Su Fing Cheng Tu side, killum tousan hantun bad fella, hab
catchee topside button allo lightee. He say he hangee on tailo booful
hoss--booful!--booful!"
[#] Grand.
* * * * * * * *
HERBERT STRANG'S ROMANCES OF MODERN INVENTION
ROUND THE WORLD IN SEVEN DAYS. 3/6
"The most stimulating, as it is certainly the breeziest he has ever
given us."--_Observer_.
KING OF THE AIR;
or, To Morocco on an Aeroplane. 2/6
"Much the best book of its kind now in existence."--_Manchester
Guardian_.
"The flights of the airship and final rescue of the imprisoned diplomat
are brilliantly told."--_Journal of Education_.
"The story goes with a fine zest and gusto, and few writers have known
as well as Herbert Strang the exact proportions to allow of amusement
and information."--_Bookman_.
LORD OF THE SEAS:
the Story of a Submarine. 2/6
"Mr. Herbert Strang has struck a new vein with remarkable success, and
has narrated a series of exciting adventures in the South Seas in an
effective and admirably sustained tone of humour."--_Notts Guardian_.
"A rattling good story, full of life and go."--_Record_.
SWIFT AND SURE:
the Story of a Hydroplane. 2/6
"A grand yarn about a hydroplane, in which Mr. Strang shows that he is a
new Jules Verne."--_Hearth and Home_.
"The excitement increases from chapter to chapter."--_Literary World_.
THE CRUISE OF THE GYRO-CAR:
A Story of Adventure in Albania. 2/6
"One of the most readable motoring books we have ever handled. It
should have an enormous sale."--_The Road_.
HENRY FROWDE AND HODDER & STOUGHTON