Blue Jackets is a Webnovel created by George Manville Fenn.
This lightnovel is currently completed.
“You likee dlink?”
“No, no, not yet,” cried Barkins.
“No likee dlink?” said the Chinaman wonderingly; and then in a voice full of reproof, “Sailor boy likee dlink.”
“Oh yes, by and by,” cried Smith.
“Ah, you wantee buy fan, shawl, ivoly? Fancee shop.”
“No, no, we don’t want to buy anything now,” cried Barkins. “We’ll pay you–“
“Allee light,” cried the man, brightening up, for he had looked disappointed, and he held out both hands for the promised pay.
“Oh, come, wait a bit,” I said. “We want you to take us and show us the shops.”
“No, no. Shop no good. Bess shop–fancee shop, Ching.”
“Oh yes; but we want to see the others too, and the streets.”
“Stleet allee full dust–allee full mud. No good.”
“Never mind,” said Barkins; “we want to see them, and the temples and mandarins’ houses.”
“Pliest shut up temple. Want muchee money. Mandalin call soldier man muchee, put all in plison. No good.”
“They’d better,” cried Smith; “why, the captain would blow all the place down with his big guns.”
“No blow Ching fancee shop down. Englis’ spoken. Good fliend.”
“Look here, Ching. Shut up shop, and come and take us all round the town to see everything, and we’ll each give you a dollar.”
“Thlee dollar?” cried the man, holding his head on one side, and raising three fingers.
“Yes,” we cried, and once more his hand went out.
“What can’t you trust us?” cried Smith.
“No tl.u.s.t. All pay leady money. Go ‘board. Fo’get.”
“Oh no, we shan’t,” I cried. “And look here, Ching, after we’ve been round the town we want to go to the theatre.”
“‘Top flee day to go to fleatre?” he said.
“Three days! no. We must be back on board at sundown.”
“No go fleatre–no time.”
“Never mind the theatre, then,” cried Barkins. “Now then, off we go.
And I say, boys, let’s have something to eat first.”
“Wantee something eatee?” cried Ching, making for a canister upon a shelf.
“No, no,” cried Smith, “not that. We want a good dinner. Do you know what a restaurant is?”
“Lestaulant?”
The Chinaman shook his head.
“Wantee good din’: eat muchee soup, fis’, cakee?”
“Yes, that’s right; come along.”
The yellow-faced man went softly to the door and listened, while we glanced round at the collection of common Chinese curios, carvings, lanterns, sunshades, stuffed birds, bits of silk, and cane baskets which filled the place, till he came back to us with a cunning look, and his eyes twinkling, as Smith said, “like two currants in a penny bun.”
“Too muchee men all wait,” he whispered. “No talkee talkee;” and, making a gesture to us to be very silent, he led us through the back of his shop into a smaller room, closed and fastened the door, and then led us through another into a kind of yard full of boxes and old tea-chests, surrounded by a bamboo paling.
There was a gate at the end of this, and he led us through, fastened it, and, signing to us to follow, led us in and out behind houses, where we sometimes saw a woman or two, sometimes children at play, all of whom took refuge within till we had pa.s.sed.
“Big clowd outside, wait long time,” said Ching, with a laugh; and directly after he led us along a narrow alley and out into a busy street, which was crowded enough, but with people going to and fro, evidently on business, and though all stopped to look, and some followed, it was not a waterside crowd of loafers, but of respectable people, moved by curiosity to watch the barbarian sailors pa.s.sing along their street, but paying most heed to me with the heavy gla.s.s.
I’m getting an old man now, my lads–the old boy who is writing this log; but it all comes back as clear to my mind’s eye as if it were only yesterday: the narrow, busy street, with men shuffling along carrying packages, baskets of fruit and vegetables or fish, cages too containing birds, and all in the same way slung at the ends of a stout bamboo placed across the bearer’s shoulder, and swinging there as if the man were carrying curious-looking pairs of scales.
The shops were as bright and gay as paint and gilding laid on their quaint carvings could make them, while on their fronts hung curious lanterns, banners, and signs covered with Chinese characters, all of which I longed to decipher, and at which I was ready to stop and stare, till Ching bade me imperatively, “Come ‘long.”
“Chinaman no fond love English sailor allee same Ching. Don’t know better. Come ‘long.”
This drew my attention to the fact that among the faces full of curiosity there were plenty which greeted us with a heavy, dull scowl, and, recalling the fact that we were only “foreign devils,” according to their teachings, it seemed better to obey our guide, though we were all bitten by the same desire to stop and inspect the various shops and stores we pa.s.sed.
Ching led us farther and farther away from the riverside, and past enclosures at whose gates stood truculent-looking, showily-dressed men, who carried swords hung from a kind of baldrick, and scowled at us from beneath their flat, conical lacquered hats. And I noticed that our guide always hurried us past these gateways, peeps through which were wonderfully attractive, showing as they did glimpses of gardens which looked like glorified, highly-coloured representations of our old friends the willow-pattern plates.
One in particular was so open that Smith stopped short, heedless of the presence of three fierce-looking Chinamen, with showy robes and long pendent moustachios.
“Look here, boys,” he cried. “What a game! Here’s the old bridge over the water, and the cannon-ball tree, and the gold-fish pond, and–“
“Come ‘long,” whispered Ching hurriedly; and he caught our comrade by the arm, forcing him onward as the guards scowled at us fiercely.
“Here, what are you up to?” cried Smith, resenting the interference.
“Take velly much care of Englis’ offlicers. Big mandalin live there.
Men sword velly sharp–cut off head.”
“Bosh!” said Smith shortly; “they’d better.”
“Oh no, they hadn’t,” cried Barkins. “We don’t want to take you on board without any head.”
“But they daren’t hurt us,” cried Smith b.u.mptiously. “We’re Englishmen, and our gunboat is in the river. I’m not afraid. Why, there’d be a war if one of these men interfered with us. Our people would land and burn up the place.”
“No,” said Ching quietly. “Send letter to mandalin. Why you men cut off little offlicer head?”