"What's the matter?" I cried. "What have they been doing?"
"No know," he said rather pitifully, as he stood there trembling. "Done
something. Thlow tin-kettle after."
"But what for? What were you doing?"
"Doing? fass 'sleep, dleam 'bout big fly come and bite leg. Jump up and
lun. Then thlow kettle after."
"Here, let's look," I said; for as he shook his head there was the same
hollow sound again, just like that made by a tin sheep-bell.
"Why, they've tied it to you," I said sharply.
"Tie to Ching flock? Don't matter. Not bess blue silkee."
"Here, let me see," I cried. "Turn round."
He turned sharply, and something banged against the bulwark.
"What a shame!" I cried. "They've tied the old canister to your tail."
"Tie canny all along Ching tow-chang?" he cried.
"Yes, and it's a rascally shame."
"Yes, allee lascally shame," he said, nodding his head. "Not hurt
velly. Only flighten velly much, makee lun fass."
"Stand still, and I'll soon have it off," I cried, whipping out my
knife.
"No, no," he cried, dragging the long plait from my hand; "mightee cut
tow-chang, and that velly dleadful. Take long time glow."
"Very well, then. I'll unfasten it, and show it to Mr Reardon."
"What for? make Mis' Leardon velly angly, scold jolly sailor boy. Then
they not like Ching 'tall."
"But it's too bad; treating you just as if you were a dog."
"Jolly sailor boy tie tin-pot dog tow-chang? No. Mr Hellick make
laugh. Dog not got tow-chang."
"No," I said, trying very hard to get the pot off, "but dogs have got
tails."
"Yes, got tails. Don't tellee, make no good. Didn't hurt Ching."
"But it's an insult to you," I said. "Any one would think they were a
pack of boys."
"Yes, jolly sailor boy. You no makee come off?"
"No," I said. "They've made a big hole through the bottom of the
canister, pushed the end of the tail--"
"Tow-chang."
"Well, tow-chang, if you like to call it so--through into the inside,
and then hammered the tin back round it and made it as fast as fast.
Here, I shall have to cut it, Ching."
"No, no," he cried, seizing the canister. "No cuttee piece of
tow-chang."
"Then how are we to get it off?"
"Don't know, Mr Hellick; look velly bad?"
"Horrible--absurd; every one will laugh at you."
"Yes, velly bad. Ching put it in pocket."
"Oh, you're there, are you?" I cried, as Tom Jecks came cautiously on
deck. "I should have thought that a man of your years would have known
better than to help torment this poor Chinaman."
"Not velly poor," he whispered. "Ching got fancee shop. Plenty
plize-money now."
"Didn't have nought to do with it," growled Tom Jecks.
"Then who did, sir?"
"Dunno, sir; some o' the boys. I was caulking till they wakened me wi'
laughing."
"But you saw it done?"
"No, sir; it was all done aforehand. They'd turned his tail into a
bull-roarer, and if you was to swing it round now like a windmill, it
would make no end of a row."
"Silence, sir," I cried. "It's disgraceful."
"Lor', sir, they on'y meant it for a bit of a lark."
"Then they should lark among themselves, and not take advantage of a
poor foreigner whom they ought to protect."
"Yes, sir, that's right enough. But he were asleep, and it didn't hurt
him till one on 'em stuck a pin in his leg to waken him up."
"Ah!" I cried. "Who did?"
"Well, sir," said Tom Jecks. "Now you do puzzle me above a bit. It was
one o' the lads, because the pin must have gone into his leg, for he
squeaked out and then run up the ladder with the tin-pot banging about
right and left, but who it was stuck that pin in, it were so dark that I
couldn't say."
"You mean that you won't say, Tom?"
"Well, sir, you're orficer, and I'm on'y AB, and I shan't contradict
you; have it that way if you like."
"I shall say no more, but we'll see what Mr Reardon says when he hears
about it."
"Why, Mr Herrick, sir, yo' wouldn't go and tell upon the poor lads,
would you? It were on'y a bit of a game, were it, Mr Ching?"
"No, only bit game," said the Chinaman.
"There, you hear, sir. There wasn't no bones broke."
"Hold your tongue, sir."
"Cert'n'y, sir."
"And come here."
Tom Jecks stepped forward obsequiously.
"Look, the tin sticks all round fast into the tail as if it were a
rabbit trap."
"Ay, sir, it do; and if I might say so, they managed it very cleverly."
"Cleverly?"
"Yes, sir. If I'd been doing it, I should on'y have thought of tying it
on with a bit o' spun-yarn; but this here tin holds it wonderful tight."
"How are we to get it off?"
"Oh, I can soon get it off," cried Tom Jecks, who seemed to be imbued
with the same notion as Alexander of old, who unsheathed his sword to
cut the Gordian knot. For he hauled out his knife by the lanyard,
opened the blade with his teeth, and took a step forward, but Ching held
the canister behind him and dodged round me.
"Steady, my lad," growled Tom Jecks, "it arn't a operation. Stand by."
"No, no, no!" shrieked Ching.
"Steady, my lad, I'll soon have it off. I won't cut down to the bone."
"No, no!" cried Ching, who was excited and alarmed, and who now began
chattering in his own tongue, all _pang ang nong wong ong_, and a series
of guttural sounds, while I could do nothing for laughing, but had to
stand like a post for Ching to dodge behind.
"Why don't you stand by, messmate?" growled Tom Jecks. "You can't go
through life with that there tin-kettle tied to your tail. Fust one as
see yer will be calling, `Mad dog.'"
By this time the watch had come to see what was going on, and I now
began to feel sorry for the Chinaman.
"Here, Ching," I said. "Come down below."
But he was too much alarmed for the moment to listen to my words,
expecting every moment as he was that some one would make a snatch at
his tail, to obviate which accident he was now holding the canister
tightly beneath his arm, and looking wildly round for a way to escape.
"Hadn't we better have it took off, sir?" said Tom Jecks, and there was
a roar of laughter. "Let's ketch him and take him to the doctor."
"No, no!" cried Ching, dodging round me again, for Tom Jecks, to the
delight of the others, made a snatch at him.
"You'll be a deal more comfortable, messmate--you know you will. Here,
let's have it?"
Tom Jecks made another snatch at him, but Ching avoided it, and to save
him from further annoyance I too made a snatch.
Poor fellow, interpreter though he was, he misinterpreted my intentions.
He tore away from my grasp and made a rush forward, but several men
were coming in that direction, and he dashed back to find himself faced
by Tom Jecks again. In his desperation he charged right at the sailor,
lowering his head as he did so, and striking him with so much force that
Tom Jecks went down sprawling, and Ching leaped over him.
There was no way open to him for escape, as it seemed, and he made a
rush for the side, leaped up, was on the bulwarks in an instant, and
made a snatch at the foremast shrouds as if to climb up into the
rigging, when either his foot slipped or his long loose cotton jacket
caught in something, I don't know how it was, but one moment I saw him
staggering, the next there was the terrible cry of "Man overboard"
raised as I rushed toward the side, heard the splash, and got upon the
bulwark in time to see the agitated water.
That was all.
It was rapidly getting dark, the tide was running swiftly seaward, and
even if the Chinaman could swim it seemed very doubtful whether he could
maintain himself long, hampered as he was by his loose clinging clothes.
But at the raising of the cry, "Man overboard," there is not much time
lost on board a man-of-war. A crew leaped into the boat; the falls were
seized; and in a minute the keel touched the water, and I found myself,
as I stood on the bulwark holding on by a rope, called upon to direct
those who had gone.
"Which way, sir? See him?"
I could only answer no, and then reply to Mr Reardon, who came up
panting.
"Who is it?" he cried. "Mr Herrick?"
"No, sir, I'm here," I shouted. "It's the interpreter."
"And what business had he up on the hammock-rail?" roared the lieutenant
as he climbed up there himself. "Steady, my lads, he can't be far."
At that moment there was a flash, and a brilliant blue-light burst out
on the surface of the black water, sending a glare all round from where
it floated on the trigger life-buoy, which had been detached and glided
away astern, while directly after a second blue-light blazed out from
the stern of the boat, showing the men dipping their oars lightly, and
two forward and two astern shading their eyes and scanning the flashing
and sparkling water.
"Can't you see him?" roared the lieutenant.
"No, sir."
We leaped downward, hurried right aft where the captain and the other
officers were now gathered, and the orders were given for a second boat
to be lowered and help to save the poor fellow.
"He ought to float, sir," said Mr Reardon in answer to some remark from
the captain. "He's fat enough."
Then he began shouting orders to the men to row to and fro; and my heart
sank as I vainly searched the lit-up water, for there was no sign of the
unfortunate Chinaman.
"What a horrible ending to a practical joke!" I thought, and a bitter
feeling of disappointment assailed me, as I asked myself why I had not
gone in the second boat to help save the poor fellow.
Perhaps it was vanity, but in those exciting moments I felt that if I
had been there I might have seen him, for it never occurred to me that I
had a far better chance of seeing him from my post of vantage high up on
that quarter-deck rail.
"See him yet?"
"No, sir!"--"No, sir!"
The first hail loudly from close by, the other from far away where the
blue-lights shone.
"Bless my soul!" cried Mr Reardon, with an angry stamp. "I can't
understand it. He must have come up again."
"Unless his pockets were heavily laden," said the captain, going to
where Mr Reardon stood. "These men carry a great deal about them under
their long loose clothes. Some heavy copper money, perhaps. A very
little would be enough to keep a struggling man down."
"Ha!" ejaculated Mr Reardon, while I shivered at the idea of poor old
Ching coming to so terrible an end.
"A glass here!" cried Mr Reardon, and one was handed up to him.
"Try the life-buoy," cried the captain.
"Bless me, sir, I was going to," retorted the lieutenant irritably; "but
the idiot who uses this glass ought to be turned out of the service for
being short-sighted. I shall never get it to the right focus."
The captain gave a dry cough, and I turned round sharply, expecting to
hear some angry exclamation.
"No," cried Mr Reardon, "he is not clinging to the life-buoy. I
wouldn't for anything that it should have happened. Poor fellow! Poor
fellow!"
"Ay, poor fellow!" muttered Captain Thwaites. "Any use to lower another
boat, Reardon?"
"No, sir, no," cried the lieutenant, "or I would have had one down.
Ahoy there!" he roared. "Light another blue!"
"Ay, ay, sir!" came from far away, for the tide ran hissing by our sides
in full rush for the sea, and the third blue-light which blazed out
looked smaller and smaller, while those of the first boat and the
life-buoy began to show faint, and then all at once that on the buoy
seemed to go out.
"That blue-light ought to have burned longer on the buoy," cried Mr
Reardon.
"They've picked up the buoy and laid it across the bows of the boat,"
said Mr Brooke, who was watching through his night-glass, and at that
moment the light blazed out again like a star.
And still the halos shed by the lights grew fainter and fainter. Then
one light burned out, and the lieutenant stamped with anger, but there
was no cause for his irritation. Another flashed out directly.
The boats were too far away now for us to see much of what was going on,
the heads of the men growing blurred, but we saw that they were
zig-zagging across the tide, and we listened in vain for the hail and
the cheer that should accompany the words--
"Got him, sir!"
The buzz of conversation among the men, who clustered on deck, in the
shrouds and tops, grew fainter, and I was thinking whether I was very
much to blame, and if I could in any way have saved the poor fellow.
Then I began thinking of the men in the forecastle, and their punishment
for being the cause, in their boyish way of playing tricks, of the poor
Chinaman's death.
I wouldn't be Tom Jecks for all the world, I muttered, and then I turned
cold and shuddered, as the hope, faint though it was, of Ching being
picked up went out like one of the lights that now disappeared; for
Captain Thwaites said sadly--
"I'm afraid we must recall the boats, Mr Reardon."
"Yes, sir," said the lieutenant in a husky voice. "I don't think any
one is to blame about the attempt to save the poor fellow, sir. The
life-buoy was let go, and the boat lowered promptly; the dishipline of
the men was good."
"Excellent, Mr Reardon. I have nothing to say there. It would have
been better perhaps to have lowered down the second boat sooner. But I
think we have done our best. Can you make them hear from this
distance?"
"Yes, I think so; a voice will travel far over the smooth water on a
still night like this. Shall I recall them?"
Captain Thwaites was silent for a full minute, and we all stood gazing
aft at the faint stars on the black water, while to right and left were
those that were more dim and distant, being the paper lanterns of the
house-boats moored a short distance from the bank.
Then the captain spoke again, and his words re-illumined the parting
light of hope which flashed up like an expiring flame.
"Do you think he has struck out straight for the shore?"
"He may have done so, sir," replied Mr Reardon, as we all stood in a
knot together on the quarter-deck, "but he could never have reached it."
"Not in this mill-race of a tide!" said Captain Thwaites. "Recall the
boats."
But Mr Reardon made no sign. He stood there gazing through the
night-glass for some moments, and the captain spoke again.
"Recall the boats, Mr Reardon."
"I beg your pardon, sir," said the lieutenant, with quite a start.
"Aloft there! Who's in the foretop?"
"Ay, ay, sir; Jecks, sir."