Blue Jackets Part 74

"You likee Ching serve out plovisions?"

Mr Brooke frowned, and the Chinaman shrank away. I noticed too that when the food was served round, the men took each a good lump of salt pork and a couple of biscuits, Ching contented himself with one biscuit, which he took right forward, and there sat, munching slowly, till it was dark and the sh.o.r.e was lit up with thousands of lanterns swinging in shop, house, and on the river boats moored close along by the sh.o.r.e.

"Bad for us," said Mr Brooke, as we sat together astern steering, and keeping a sharp look ahead for the expected enemy.

"Why?" I asked.

"Getting so dark, my lad. We shall be having the junks pa.s.s us."

"Oh no, sir. Ching is keen-sighted, and all the men are looking out very eagerly."

"Ah, well, I hope they will not slip by. They must not, Herrick. There is one advantage in this darkness, though: they will not find us out."

The darkness favouring the movement, and so as to save time, ready for any sudden emergency, he ordered the men to buckle on their cutla.s.s-belts and pouches, while the rifles were hid handy.

"In case we want to board, Herrick."

"Then you mean to board if there is a chance?" I said.

"I mean to stop one of those junks from putting to sea, if I can," he replied quietly. "The _Teaser_ having left us, alters our position completely. She has gone off on a false scent, I'm afraid, and we must not lose the substance while they are hunting the shadow."

Very little more was said, and as I sat in the darkness I had plenty to think about and picture out, as in imagination I saw our queer-looking boat hooked on to the side of a great high-p.o.o.ped junk, and Mr Brooke leading the men up the side to the attack upon the fierce desperadoes who would be several times our number.

"I don't know what we should do," I remember thinking to myself, "if these people hadn't a wholesome fear of our lads."

Then I watched the sh.o.r.e, with its lights looking soft and mellow against the black velvety darkness. Now and then the booming of gongs floated off to us, and the squeaking of a curious kind of pipe; while from the boats close in sh.o.r.e the tw.a.n.gling, twingling sound of the native guitars was very plain--from one in particular, where there was evidently some kind of entertainment, it being lit up with a number of lanterns of grotesque shapes. In addition to the noise--I can't call it music--of the stringed instruments, there came floating to us quite a chorus of singing. Well, I suppose it was meant for singing; but our lads evidently differed, for I heard one man say in a gruff whisper--

"See that there boat, messmate?"

"Ay," said another. "I hear it and see it too."

"Know what's going on?"

"Yes; it's a floating poulterer's shop."

"A what?"

"A floating poulterer's shop. Can't you hear 'em killing the cats?"

This interested me, and I listened intently.

"Killing the cats?" said another.

"Ay, poor beggars. Lor' a mussy! our cats at home don't know what horrible things is done in foreign lands. They're killing cats for market to-morrer, for roast and biled."

"Get out, and don't make higgerant observations, messmate. It's a funeral, and that's the way these here heathens show how sorry they are."

"Silence there, my lads," said the lieutenant. "Keep a sharp look-out."

"Ay, ay, sir."

Just at that moment, as the lit-up boat glided along about a couple of hundred yards from us, where we sailed gently up-stream, there was a faint rustling forward, and Tom Jecks' gruff voice whispered--

"What is it, messmate?"

"Ching see big junk."

There was a dead silence, and we all strained our eyes to gaze up-stream.

"Can't see nought, messmate," was whispered.

"Yes; big junk come along."

_Plash_! and a creaking, rattling sound came forth out of the darkness.

"It is a big junk," said Mr Brooke, with his lips to my ear; "and she has anch.o.r.ed."

Then from some distance up the river we saw a very dim lantern sway here and there, some hoa.r.s.e commands were given, followed by the creaking and groaning of a bamboo yard being lowered, and then all was perfectly still.

What strange work it seemed to be out there in the darkness of that foreign river, surrounded by curious sights and sounds, and not knowing but what the next minute we might be engaged in deadly strife with a gang of desperadoes who were perfectly indifferent to human life, and who, could they get the better of us, would feel delight in slaughtering one and all. It was impossible to help feeling a peculiar creepy sensation, and a cold s.h.i.+ver ran through one from time to time.

So painful was this silence, that I felt glad when we had sailed up abreast of the great vessel which had dropped anchor in mid-stream, for the inaction was terrible.

We sailed right by, went up some little distance, turned and came back on the other side, so near this time that we could dimly make out the heavy masts, the huge, clumsy p.o.o.p and awkward bows of the vessel lying head to stream.

Then we were by her, and as soon as we were some little distance below Mr Brooke spoke--

"Well, my lads, what do you say: is she one of the junks?"

"No pilate junk," said Ching decisively, and I saw Mr Brooke make an angry gesture--quite a start.

"What do you say, my lads?"

"Well, sir, we all seem to think as the Chinee does--as it arn't one of them."

"Why?"

"Looks biggerer and clumsier, and deeper in the water."

"Yes; tlade boat from Hopoa," said Ching softly, as if speaking to himself.

"I'm not satisfied," said Mr Brooke. "Go forward, Mr Herrick; your eyes are sharp. We'll sail round her again. All of you have a good look at her rigging."

"Ay, ay, sir," whispered the men; and I crept forward among them to where Ching had stationed himself, and once more we began gliding up before the wind, which was sufficiently brisk to enable us to easily master the swift tide.

As I leaned over the side, Ching heaved a deep sigh.

"What's the matter?" I whispered.