THE WRITING ON THE BRACELETS
In the joy of seeing her father after months of absence Marcia almost
forgot the mystery of Benedict's Folly. Almost--but not quite!
Captain Brett had been at home twenty-four hours, and had had time to
give an account of all the intervening weeks, before the subject was
broached. Then the next morning, with a great air of mystery, the two
girls and Aunt Minerva made him sit down and listen to the entire story.
At its conclusion they produced the two filigree bracelets for his
inspection.
"H'm!" he exclaimed, and, whistling softly under his breath, examined
them with minute care. And then, being a man of few words, he only
remarked: "So you think these were once a pair?"
"Why, of course!" cried Marcia. "Don't you?"
"It looks remarkably like it," he conceded.
"Do tell us how you happened to get yours!" she begged.
"There's nothing much to tell," replied Captain Brett. "Happened to be
in Hong-Kong one day, and a ragged-looking Chinese sailor thrust this
under my nose and whined that he'd let me have it for two Mexican
dollars. They're always trying to get rid of things like this when they
want some spare cash. One never knows where they pick them up. I didn't
want the trinket particularly, but I saw that it was a unique little
piece and worth probably much more. So I bought it, tucked it away in my
trunk, and forgot it till I arrived home, when I gave it to you,
Minerva. That's all I know about it."
"How long ago was that?" asked Janet.
"Must have been at least twelve years ago. I'm not sure of the exact
year."
"But what do these things mean?" questioned Miss Minerva, pointing to
the strange characters in the silver-work.
"They're Chinese characters, certainly, but I don't know what they mean.
You see them on lots of their jewelry and gimcracks--generally mean
'good luck,' or 'happiness,' or some such motto. Can't say whether these
mean anything of that kind or not."
"But tell me, Father, don't you honestly believe that if we could get
these translated--find out what they mean--it might give us _some_ clue
to the puzzle?" Marcia appealed to him.
"It might--or it might not," he answered skeptically. "So many of these
characters might be meaningless, as far as any personal application was
concerned."
"Well, anyway, _could_ we get them translated, just for our own
satisfaction?" demanded Marcia.
"Nothing simpler!" smiled Captain Brett. "My boatswain is a
Chinese--very learned man--reads his Confucius in off hours! He'd be
sure to help you with it."
"Oh, goody! And when can we have it done?" cried Marcia, aglow with
anticipation.
"Well, you're all coming down to visit the ship to-morrow. Bring the
bracelets along, and I'll see that Lee Ching is on hand to give you his
assistance. But--I warn you--_don't_ count too much on what you may
discover from it! I don't want you to have a bad disappointment."
In spite of which warning, notwithstanding, the girls slept little that
night, so excited were they over the prospect, and, when they did sleep,
dreamed impossible dreams--mainly of quite unintelligible translations
of cryptic Chinese characters.
The visit to Captain Brett's ship, _The Empress of Oran_, would have
been an event, apart from any other interest involved in the expedition.
Marcia and Janet had never in their lives been on board of an ocean
steamer. Even the approach to it was fascinating,--the long, covered
wharves with their strange, spicy odors, the bustle and activity of
loading and unloading, the narrow gangways, the dark waist of the
vessel, and the immaculate white paint of the decks.
They examined every inch of the huge steamer, from the stoking-room to
the donkey-engines on the forecastle deck, and spent half an hour in the
cozy, tiny cabin that was the captain's own, marveling at the
compactness and handiness of every detail.
When they all went up to the after-deck for luncheon, which was served
under an awning, Marcia and Janet could scarcely eat for watching the
deft, silent, sphinxlike Chinese cook who waited on them. They tasted
strange dishes that day, some of which, like curry and rice, were
scarcely acceptable to their unaccustomed palates.
"Now," said the captain, in the middle of the meal, "if we were only out
on the China Sea or bowling along over the Pacific, this would be just
right. You'd have more of an appetite in that salt air than you do
hemmed in by these noisy docks!"
But it was not the docks that had stolen away the appetites of Marcia
and Janet. They were boiling with impatience to see the boatswain, that
student of Confucius, who could, perhaps, throw some new light on their
mystery. Ambrosia and nectar for luncheon would scarcely have appealed
to them under the circumstances!
At last, however, the meal was ended with the curious little Chinese
nuts whose meat is almost like a raisin. Then, when the table was
cleared and the captain had lit his cigar, he spoke the word that caused
their hearts to jump and their eyes to brighten:
"Now I suppose you want to see Lee Ching!" He beckoned to a sailor and
sent him to find the boatswain.
Lee Ching arrived with promptitude, saluted his captain, and stood
gravely at attention. He was not a young man, and he had a decidedly
Oriental, mask-like face. It seemed strange that he should be dressed in
the conventional boatswain's uniform, with peaked cap and the whistle of
his office. One could imagine him better in some brilliant-hued,
wide-sleeved Chinese garment, with a long pig-tail down his back.
"Lee Ching," said the captain, "these young ladies are very much
interested in these two bracelets that have come into their possession.
The characters on them, you see, are in your language. We wonder if you
will be so kind as to translate them for us?"
Lee Ching took the trinkets and examined them minutely. Presently he
asked:
"Will ladies have what say by word of mouth?" The captain was about to
answer yes, and then changed his mind:
"No. It may be rather important, and we want to remember it accurately.
We would be obliged if you would write it out."
Lee Ching nodded gravely. "Will captain permit I retire to cabin?" he
requested, and on being dismissed, he retreated with a formal bow.
"But _can_ he write English?" cried Marcia, when he had disappeared.
"Of course he can, better than he can speak it!" laughed the captain.
"English is child's play compared to that brain-paralyzing language of
his! I must say, though, that Lee Ching is rather unusual--as Chinese
sailors go. He's studied in the University of Pekin, reads and writes
English well, and never speaks Pidgin-English. Why he's spending his
life as boatswain of a trading-steamer I don't know. He's fitted for far
different things. But I have an idea it's on account of his health that
he follows the sea."
The time before Lee Ching's reappearance seemed to the girls
interminable, though, in all probability, it was not more than fifteen
minutes.
At last, however, he returned, laid the bracelets and a slip of paper in
the captain's hand, and was about to retire.
"One moment!" said Captain Brett. "Is the writing on the two bracelets
the same?"
[Illustration: "Words on two bracelets are Identical," replied Lee
Ching, precisely]
"Words on two bracelets are identical," replied Lee Ching, precisely.
"That is all, then, and thank you!" And the captain dismissed him.
"Oh, _read_ it," cried Marcia, "or I shall die of impatience!" and
she hung over his shoulder while he read aloud Lee Ching's queer,
angular handwriting.
[Illustration: Writing: "From the maker of melodies to the flower-maiden
on this day of their wedding. Amoy, Sept. 25, 1889."]
When he had finished, a blank look crept over the expectant faces of the
two girls.
"Is _that_ all?" cried Janet. And Marcia exclaimed, "Why, how
disappointing! It doesn't tell us a single thing!"
"Wait a minute," said the captain, tugging thoughtfully at his short
mustache, while he studied the paper, "I'm not so sure of that!"