They had hardly crossed the bridge before they heard shrill whistling from behind them. It was answered not from Dragon Town but from Tiger Island, on the other side of the river. They saw Miss Lee, riding in her chair ahead of them, put up her hand. Instantly the procession stopped and the chairs were put down. Roger, less easily dismayed than any of the others, and anyhow delighted to have passed the bridge, skipped out of his chair and ran forward to ask Miss Lee what the whistling was about.
He found her sitting still and listening with a dead face.
“What is it, Miss Lee?” he asked. “Do tell me what it is.”
The whistling ended.
“The Taicoon, Wu,” said Miss Lee dully, “is asking the Taicoon Chang to come acloss the liver and have a talk with him.” She gave the word for the procession to go on.
Roger, dodging back to get to his own chair, shouted the news to the others. It did not cheer them.
Outside Dragon Town the people were coming in after the day’s work tending the growing rice. At the sight of the dragon banner they came running and splashing to the roadside to cheer as Miss Lee went by. A crowd was waiting at the town wall to cheer as the twenty-two gong strokes sounded. All through the streets the people poured out of their houses to cheer and cheer again. People lifted their children to see her as she passed. Crowds, running together from other parts of the town were waiting to cheer her at her own gateway. Once more the gongs sounded for her. The chairs one after another were carried through into the courtyard. The holiday picnic was over and Missee Lee was home again.
“Well, there’s one comfort,” said Captain Flint as he left his chair and joined the others, “she may be at outs with Mr. Wu and Mr. Chang, but she reigns in the hearts of her people.”
“We ought to thank her for the picnic,” said Susan.
It was too late. Miss Lee had left her chair and, carrying Captain Flint’s sextant, was already going up the steps and in through the verandah of the council room.
The prisoners went into their own house. There, neatly piled on the floor, were all the things they had left in the temple, everything except Captain Flint’s sextant.
“If you’d only left it with the rest,” said Nancy, “it would have been here and you wouldn’t have lost it.”
“I’ve mucked it,” said Captain Flint. “And now we’ve got another enemy.”
“I saw him do that beastly thing with his hand,” said Roger.
“So did I,” said Captain Flint, tenderly rubbing the back of his neck.
CHAPTER XXII
MONEY RETURNED
SUSAN was waked early by the shrilling of whistle signals. She got up at once. With only one more day before the Dragon Feast it was not going to be easy getting that dragon done. What with Latin and then being out all yesterday and not getting home till lantern-time, what should have been an easy job was going to be a hard one. Miss Lee had said the students’ dragon would please her men. Captain Flint had said that it was a good thing to please them. Susan was near the bottom of the class in Latin, but when it came to sewing she knew that she could pull her weight and more. Somehow or other that dragon should get done. The others woke to find her busily stitching, and ready for help as soon as she could get it. It was a dreadful piece of work. The dragon’s skin was made of stout red cloth with an outer skin of golden scales. A solid join had to be made between the two parts of the skin, and then a lot of scales had to be fitted in and sewn on so as to hide the join. The enormous head of the dragon was made of a sort of papier mâché, to be light for carrying. A lot of the gold paint had worn off, as well as much of the red from the gaping jaws.
“He looks a bit shabby,” said Titty.
“It’ll do,” said John. “Miss Lee said it was an old one they weren’t going to use again.”
“If we could get some paint,” said Titty.
“Ask Miss Lee,” said Susan, sucking the end of a bit of thread. “Oh, look here, Nancy, if you get it crooked that side we’ll have to unpick and start again.”
“Bother your dragon, Roger,” said Nancy, as Roger came in from the courtyard, where he had been paying a visit to Gibber.
“I say,” said Roger, “Gibber and I watched Captain Flint being shaved in his cage, and we saw old three-hair beard being carried out in a chair, and Captain Flint got himself cut turning round to look at him.”
The bell rang, and they left the dragon to hurry through the garden to breakfast.
“Salvete discipuli!” said Miss Lee as they greeted her, but they knew she was thinking of something else.
The amah brought in Captain Flint, with a thin line of red on his chin, where the Chinese barber had cut him. He was looking worried and mumbled a “Good morning” which Miss Lee hardly seemed to hear.
Breakfast began in silence. They were half way through it before John dared to say, “Miss Lee, we never thanked you yesterday for taking us to the island.”
Miss Lee looked at him. “I had hoped,” she said, “to show the Taicoon Wu that he could aglee with me against my counsellor and Chang.”
“I fear I spoilt that, ma’am,” said Captain Flint.
“It is now worse. Velly much worse,” said Miss Lee. “Wu and Chang have asked to see my counsellor. Why not me?” Miss Lee seemed to ask that question of herself. “Well, I have sent them my counsellor. …”
“We saw him going out,” said Roger. “That’s how Captain Flint got his chin cut.”
“Only his chin,” said Miss Lee.
It was not until breakfast was over that Titty dared to ask about the paint. “It doesn’t want a lot,” she said. “It’s just for places on his head, and bits of his jaws are white instead of bloody.”
For the first time Miss Lee smiled. “Loger’s dlagon?” she said. “All light. You shall have some.”
Then Roger, the favourite pupil, dared to remind Miss Lee that yesterday’s holiday had given them no time for preparation. “No matter,” said Miss Lee. “We will see how much you have forgotten and we can tlanslate without plepalation.”
*
It was a queer lesson. They were surprised themselves to find how much they had remembered. If they had been model students, Miss Lee had certainly been a most successful teacher. Or else, as sometimes happens, she asked each one the question to which he knew the answer. Even Nancy satisfied the examiner. But, though Miss Lee was pleased, they knew her mind was somewhere else. Sometimes there was a long wait between one question and the next, while Miss Lee turned the pages of the grammar book as if she did not see them. Sometimes even, though it was answered promptly, she seemed to have forgotten what question she had asked.
Towards the end of the morning they heard a noise in the courtyard outside. The amah came in and spoke to Miss Lee.
“The counsellor is come back,” she said, and went out after the amah.
“We’ll know the worst now,” said Captain Flint.
“If we’re in disgrace,” asked Roger, “what do you think she’ll do? Not let us go to the Dragon Feast?”
“Much worse than that,” said Captain Flint.
She was a long time gone. When she came back, she was no longer the kindly schoolmistress, but much more like the Missee Lee they had seen for the first time, sitting formidable in the council room among her captains. She sat down, her lips tightly closed, her eyes narrowed, her fingers drumming on the table.
“The Taicoons thleaten mutiny,” she said at last. “Wu has told Chang it is not safe to keep you here one minute. They say my father was light. No English plisoners. They ask me to cut the heads of my students. …”
There was a long silence.
“What cheek,” said Nancy at last.
“Yes,” said Miss Lee. “They ask for an answer, now. They ask me to aglee, Yes or No.”
They heard the shrill whistling of the signaller, a very short message. Roger looked up.
“I send them the answer,” said Miss Lee. “I send them the answer, No.”
“Good fo
r you,” said Nancy.
“That’s all right,” said Roger.
“Thank you, ma’am,” said Captain Flint.
“What will they do now?” said Titty.
“Nothing,” said Miss Lee. “Wu will do nothing without Chang. Chang will do nothing because you are not his plisoners. Chang is gleedy, velly gleedy. I paid him money. Much money. I let Chang keep his San Flancisco in exchange for my students. And then I bought him because you wanted him. Chang will take big lisk lather than give up money. Chang will do nothing at all.”
“I don’t much like your having bought me,” said Captain Flint and stammered into silence under Miss Lee’s eyes.
“You should be happy I did,” said Miss Lee.
And then, as if nothing had been the matter, she set them their work. “No lesson tomollow,” she said, “because of Dlagon Feast. But you must do some plepalation for the next day.”
“Miss Lee,” said Roger, “we’ll go to the Dragon Feast just the same?”
“I plomised you should,” said Miss Lee, “and you shall.”
*
Work on the dragon was in full swing. A man had brought in two bowls, one of red paint and one of gold, and had showed by hard stirring how it was to be used. Titty, with splodges of gold on her face and hands, was making the dragon’s head look like new. Roger was painting its fiery tongue. The tail end of the dragon was flopped along one side of the room, with a bit of it hanging over the table to meet the other end draped over a couple of chairs. John, Captain Flint and Peggy were holding the join so that Susan and Nancy could pass from one to the other the needle to and fro, doing the long lines of stitching that were to hold the ends together. Miss Lee came through the garden.
AT WORK ON THE DRAGON
“Vide, nostra domina, nostrum draconem,” said Roger.
“Domina nostla would be better, Loger,” said Miss Lee. “But velly plomising.”
She stayed, watching her pupils for some minutes, and went away again.
“Funny,” said Captain Flint. “I wonder why she came.”
“She’s bothered about something,” said Titty.
“Wondering what those bloodthirsty Taicoons’ll be up to next,” said Captain Flint.
“They can’t do a thing,” said Nancy. “You heard her say so. She swopped us for you, letting Chang keep you, and then she bought you. We’re her property, not theirs.”
*
The dragon needed no more red paint and Roger had more than once asked if they were not going for a walk at all, and Susan had said that he and John too were more of a hindrance than a help in difficult sewing, when Captain Flint said “Come on, Skipper, and you, too, Roger, we’ll clear out and leave the experts to it.”
“Now we’ll really get ahead,” said Susan as soon as they had gone, and as soon as Titty had covered the last bare patch on the head with gold and left it to dry, she and Susan worked at one seam, while Nancy and Peggy worked at another. “Four rows of stitching at the very least,” Susan had said when they began. “It’ll only pull apart if we have less.”
John, Roger and Captain Flint had been gone about an hour and a half when the dragon-menders heard a noise in the courtyard.
“Who is it this time?” said Titty. “Shall I go and see?”
“What does it matter?” said Susan. “If we don’t hurry we’ll never get done.”
And then Miss Lee came in again. She looked all round at once.
“Where is Loger?” she asked.
“Gone for a walk with John and Captain Flint,” said Susan.
“Do you want him?” said Titty. “Shall I go and look for him?”
“Which way did they go?” asked Miss Lee.
“They didn’t say,” said Nancy.
“John was saying something about looking at the river,” said Peggy, “just as they went out.”
Miss Lee made as if to go through the house to the courtyard but changed her mind. She went out to the garden but only for a moment. She came back and sat down. The others went on with the mending of the dragon.
Miss Lee stood up again, and began walking to and fro. Titty, underneath a fold of the dragon, passing the needle through to Susan above, watched the flickering of her little gold shoes.
“Velly clever painter,” said Miss Lee, looking at the dragon’s head, and then, “Pelhaps I had better send … Susan, were they going for a long walk?”
They all felt the worry in her voice. Susan lost the thread out of her needle.
“What is it?” said Titty. “Has something happened?”
“I will tell you,” said Miss Lee, after listening for a moment. “I will tell you. Chang has sent back the money that I paid him.”
“Oh good,” said Titty. “Captain Flint was awfully bothered about it.”
“It is not good,” said Miss Lee. “You do not understand. It means that Chang will now count that you are still his plisoners, not mine. He has got nothing for you, not even Captain Flint. … He is flee to do what he likes. It means that …”
The door from the courtyard burst open and Roger came racing in holding his hat at arm’s length before him.
“Look, look, Nancy,” he shouted. “We were looking at the river all in flood. … No, no, Miss Lee, we hadn’t gone to the ferry or anywhere we mustn’t. … We were looking at the river and there was a bang … and I heard something whizz … and my hat flew off, and look at it!” And he pointed to a clean hole through the brim.
“Roger,” cried Susan.
“Roger,” cried Nancy. “You lucky, lucky beast!”
“Some careless fellow shooting at birds,” said Captain Flint as he came in with John.
“No,” said Miss Lee. “Shooting at you. That is what it means. … Tell him what has happened. … Listen! You are none of you to go outside the yamen. No. Not one. Not even in the garden. I must see my counsellor at once. …”
And Miss Lee was gone.
CHAPTER XXIII
MISS LEE AGREES WITH HER COUNSELLOR
ROGER with a bullet through his hat was enough to slow up any sewing party. Nancy was full of envy. Titty wanted to know exactly what had happened. Susan turned away from the hat and would not look at it, thinking how near the bullet had passed by Roger’s head. Captain Flint sat gloomily down on a bit of dragon where it spread over a chair.
“It’s all my fault,” he said.
“Well, you were a bit of a gummock, Uncle Jim,” said Nancy. “Going and letting Wu see the sextant.”
“How was I to know the little beast had been a bo’sun?” said Captain Flint. “I’d never heard him open his mouth. And most of these chaps get along all right with coastal sailing but wouldn’t know what a sextant was if you shoved it at their noses.”
“One thing,” said Nancy, “if we’re not allowed out any more, there’s no need to go on pricking our fingers. My thumb’s nearly raw pushing that needle through or having the needle jabbed into it by Peggy pushing it back.”
“Gosh!” said Roger. “We won’t even be allowed to see the other dragons.”
“They cut it up for us,” said Susan, “and we’ve nearly done now. We may as well finish it.”
“I suppose we’d better go at that Latin,” said John.
It was nearly dusk. Susan was finding it too dark to see, and the others, stirred to it by Captain Flint, were asking each other grammar questions, expecting every minute to see their evening rice brought in, when there was a sudden shadow in the doorway. Miss Lee had come back.
“Salve, domina,” said Roger.
“Salve, Loger,” said Miss Lee, but not as if she really meant it. She looked back into the garden and beckoned. The amah came in and Miss Lee spoke to her in Chinese, setting her to keep watch through a window looking on the courtyard. She herself glanced back again into the garden and said, “Loger, please sit in the doorway, so you will see if anyone is coming.”
Captain Flint offered her a chair and she sat down, but only for a moment. She stood up again, loo
ked at the Latin Grammar and at the page Captain Flint had copied out to study in his cage, picked up the dictionary, opened it, closed it again and put it down. Suddenly she swept books and papers together.
“No more lessons,” she said.
“But we like them,” said Captain Flint. “And we’re getting on.”
“No more lessons,” said Miss Lee. “No good. I was velly happy. I thought Camblidge had come to me. Velly good students. All finished now. My father made a good law when he said ‘No English plisoners in the Thlee Islands’!”
Her students listened with puzzled and rather frightened faces. This was a new Miss Lee. They had seen Missee Lee, chief of the three islands, sitting in the council room of her yamen, sitting in her father’s chair, with the Taicoons and captains listening to her every word. They had seen Miss Lee, the happy lecturer, helping lame dogs over the stiles of Latin grammar. They had seen Miss Lee, the skilful steersman, master in her own ship. They had never seen a Miss Lee who looked as if she had failed in getting her own way.
“Thlee Islands,” said Miss Lee, talking as if to herself and not to her listeners. ‘Thlee Islands, my father made them one. He tlusted me to keep them one. And now I make them thlee again. The counsellor is light. Better to have no English students, no English plisoners, no Camblidge, but keep Thlee Islands one, and my father happy in his glave.”
“Are you going to let us go?” said Roger from his seat in the doorway, keeping watch on the garden path.
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