"HERE! YOU'D BETTER COME ASHORE."
Foul weather extended the voyage of the steamer to a length of five days
before she reached the little port of destination, where, in the midst
of a glorious change, Stan followed his conductor into a great clumsy
junk, which was sailed when the windings of the fine, broad Mour River
made the wind favourable, and tracked by coolies hauling upon a huge
twisted bamboo cable when the breeze was adverse for a couple of days
more.
The up-river trip was most enjoyable, through a highly cultivated
country teeming with an industrious population and glowing with abundant
crops; while the scenery was so glorious, and the novelty of the
continuous panorama so great, that Stan felt a chill of disappointment
at sunset one glowing evening when Wing, who had crept quietly up behind
him, touched his shoulder, and stood pointing towards a village at the
foot of a grand stretch of cliff, the houses rising up the beautiful
terraced slope, while at the foot was a group of new-looking buildings,
at the back of a wharf to which some half-dozen trading-boats were
moored.
"Nang Ti," said Wing, with a broad smile. "Young Lynn big _hong_ full
silk, full tea, full nicee piecee chop chop all along young Lynn. See
big Blunt soon. Young Lynn savee big managee Blunt?"
"No, I have never seen him," said Stan as he sheltered his eyes from the
ruddy orange sunlight and scanned the place.
"Velly big stlong man. Velly good man. Velly big shoutee tongue say
`Ho!' and `Ha!' Flighten stlong coolie man; makee wuck. Coolie go
dlink much _samshu_, lie down, go sleepee; Blunt come behind, takee
pigtail, pullee up, and kickee velly much. Makee coolie cly `Oh!'
Makee loll ovey and ovey, and say leady to go wuck and nevey dlink
_samshu_, no mo'."
"Indeed!" said Stan, who began to picture in his own mind what sort of a
personage the manager in charge might be. "And then, I suppose, after
being kicked for getting tipsy on _samshu_, the men never drink any
more?"
"No," said Wing, grinning more widely. "Velly much flighten. Nevey
dlink any mo' till next time. Poh! Gleat big silly boy, coolie. Gleat
stlong man up to head--head like big baby chile. Much flighten when big
Blunt come shout `Ho! ha!' Big piecee man, big Blunt. Mastee managee.
Young Lynn mastee managee now. Flighten big Blunt."
"Indeed!" said Stan, smiling. "Well, we shall see."
"Yes, young Lynn see soon. Lookee! Big Blunt."
Wing pointed again, and following the direction of the extended
index-finger, Stan saw a tall figure in white step out of one of the
buildings, make its way to where a crane stretched out its diagonal arm,
from which a chain with heavy ball and hooks was suspended over the
river, and then stop to gaze at the junk upon whose high stern Stan and
his companion were on the lookout.
Just then the _tindal_, or master of the junk, began to shout to his
men, one of whom ran forward and began to thump a gong hanging in the
bows, sending forth a booming roar whose effect was to bring a little
crowd of half-naked coolies out of the buildings ashore, and three or
four Europeans in white, while the crew of the junk began to swarm about
the great clumsy vessel like bees.
The wind was favourable, and the great matting sails creaked and
rustled, while their yards groaned as they rubbed against the bamboo
masts as their sheets were tightened and pulled home, sending the heavy
boat gliding up-river at an increased pace, soon getting abreast of the
wharf, and then gliding along up-stream and leaving it behind.
"What does this mean?" said Stan excitedly. "Doesn't the captain know
we are to stop there?"
"Young Lynn soon see," replied Wing. "Velly fast lun watey big stleam.
Young Lynn wait. Go 'long bit way. Captain know."
He did know perfectly how to manage his clumsy craft, which, in
obedience to his signs to the steersman, was run on in a diagonal course
which took it in nearer to the bank from which the cliff ran up. Then,
as a few yells were uttered, some of the men seized the ropes, others
got out great sweeps, there was a bang on the gong, the two great sails
came rattling down upon the deck, the long sweeps began to dip as the
junk's pace grew slower and slower, till she finally stopped and began
to go back, but so slowly and well-directed that she glided close
alongside the wharf, whence men threw ropes; and in a wonderfully short
time, considering the clumsiness of the craft and equipage, the junk was
moored alongside so closely that it was possible to run a gangway aboard
for the occupants to go ashore.
Stan was making ready to approach the gangway, when the figure in white
approached the side, and without taking any notice of him, nodded to the
Chinese captain shortly, and then turned to Wing.
"Hullo, you, sir!" he shouted in a big, vigorous voice, as if he meant
himself to be heard back at the stern.
"Yes. Come back again," said Wing.
"What made you so long?"
"Velly bad wind blow velly much indeed. Steamship no get 'long fast."
"Humph! Bring me any letters?"
"Yes, bling big pack letteys. Got lot."
"Come along, then, ashore; I've no time to waste."
"I shall never like you," thought Stan to himself as he waited patiently
for the manager to address him in turn. But the big, keen,
masterful-looking fellow did not seem even to glance in the lad's
direction, keeping his eyes fixed upon Wing, who seemed to be quite
afraid of him, and did not venture to speak till the manager said loudly
and sharply, as if to annoy the stranger:
"Who's that boy you've got on board there?"
Wing looked troubled, and glanced first at Stan and then at the speaker.
"Well, sir, why don't you answer?" continued the manager.
"Young Lynn. Come 'long flom Hai-Hai."
"Oh!" said the manager gruffly. "Whose son is he--Mr Oliver's or Mr
Jeffrey's? Oh, I remember; Mr Jeffrey isn't married." Then turning
his eyes full upon Stan with a searching stare, he said shortly, "How
do? Here! you'd better come ashore."