Stan Lynn: A Boy's Adventures in China

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by George Manville Fenn


  CHAPTER SIX.

  "HE'S JUST LIKE A CHESTNUT."

  "Don't think we are going to be great friends," said Stan to himself ashe sat down that night upon the edge of his clean, comfortable-lookingChinese bed, in a perfectly plain but very clean little room adjoiningthat occupied by the manager. "He was very civil, though, and tookgreat care that I had a good dinner. He didn't seem to mind in theleast my having spoken as I did.

  "Perhaps I oughtn't to have spoken so," he continued after a fewminutes' thought about his position. "I don't know, though; I didn'tcome here as a servant, and he was awfully bullying and rude. Phew!How hot it is!"

  He rose and opened the window a little wider, to look out on the swiftlyflowing river, across which the moon made a beautiful path of light,that glittered and danced and set him thinking about the home he hadleft, wondering the while whether father and uncle were thinking abouthim and how they were getting on.

  "I shall write and tell them exactly how Mr Blunt treated me; butperhaps it would be only fair to wait and see how he behaves to-morrowand next day. I couldn't complain about how he went on to-night. `Begreat friends,' he said half-aloud after a pause. Perhaps we may; butoh, how sleepy I am! Better leave the window as it is. I'll lie downat once. I can think just as well when I'm in bed."

  This was not true, for the only thing Stan Lynn thought was that thepillow felt quite hot. Then he was fast asleep, without so much as adream to deal with; and the next time he was conscious, he opened hiseyes in wonder and stared at the open window and the sunshiny sky,fancying he heard a sound.

  "Do you hear there, squire?" came, with a sharp rapping at the boardedwalls of the room. "Time to get up. There's a tub in the next room,and plenty of cold water."

  "Yes. Thank you. All right I won't be long."

  "Don't," came back, in company with the sound of gurgling and splashing."Breakfast early. Busy day for us." _Bur-r-r_!

  "What did he mean by that?" said Stan.

  The _bur-r-r_! was repeated, and then there was a rattle which explainedthe meaning of the peculiar noise.

  "Cleaning his teeth," muttered Stan as he sprang out of bed. He soughtand found the tub and other arrangements which proved that the managerhad surrounded himself with the necessaries for living like a civilisedEnglishman, even if he was stationed in a lonely place in a foreignland, and he was just putting the finishing touches to his dress whenthere was a heavy thump from a big fist on the door.

  "Look sharp, Squire Lynn! I'm going to tell them to bring in thecoffee."

  "Nearly ready," cried Stan; and a few minutes later he descended theplain board stairs, which were scrubbed to the whitest of tints.

  There was a white cloth on the table, with a very English-lookingbreakfast spread; and plain and bare as the place was, with nothingbetter than Chinese mats to act as a carpet, curtain, and blind, therewas the appearance of scrupulous cleanliness; and rested by a goodnight's sleep, and elastic of spirit in the fresh air of a beautifulmorning, Stan felt ready to make the best of things if his host provedto be only bearable.

  There he sat--his host--reading hard at a letter, and he made no signfor a few moments, and paid no heed to Stan's "Good-morning!" but readon, till he suddenly exclaimed, "`Very faithfully yours, Jeffrey Lynn,'"and doubled the letter up and thrust it in his pocket.

  "Morning, squire," he continued. "Rested? I read all thecorrespondence before I turned in, and I've just run through youruncle's letter again. I say, he gives you an awfully good character."

  "Does he?" said Stan.

  "Splendid. Ah! here's old Wing. I'm peckish; aren't you?"

  "Yes; I'm ready for my breakfast," replied the boy as Wing entered,smiling, with a big, round lacquer tray loaded with the necessaries fora good morning meal.

  "That's right. We'll have it, then, and afterwards see to theunloading. There isn't much consigned to me this time. After thatyou'd like to see the warehouses and what we've got there, and learn whothe different fellows are, before we have an hour or two in thecounting-house--eh?"

  "Yes; I'm ready," said Stan, smiling, and having hard work to keep fromlooking wonderingly at the man who had given him so unpleasant areception the previous evening.

  "Is he a two-faced fellow," thought Stan, "and doing all this to put meoff my guard? Why, he's as mild as--"

  Stan was going to say "mild" again, but at that moment a wild hubbub ofangry voices in fierce altercation burst out, the noise coming throughthe open window from the direction of the wharf beyond which the junkwas moored.

  "Yah!" roared the manager, springing from his seat and rushing to theopen window, his face completely transformed, as he roared out a wholestring of expletives in the Chinese tongue. He literally raged at thedisputants, whose angry shouts died out rapidly, to be succeeded byperfect silence; and then the manager turned from the window, with hisface looking very red and hot, and took his place again.

  "That's the only way to deal with them," he cried, "when you're not nearenough to knock a few heads together. You'll have to learn."

  "What was the matter?" said Stan, who felt in doubt about acquiring theaccomplishment, and whose better spirits were somewhat damped by thissudden return to the previous evening's manner.

  "Matter? Nothing at all. There! peg away, my lad. Make a goodbreakfast. I always do. Splendid beginning for a good day's work.--What!" he roared, as there was the merest suggestion of a freshoutburst, which calmed down directly, "Yes, you'd better tear me awayfrom my bones! You do, and I'll turn tiger. Ah! you've thought betterof it. Lucky for you!--Nice row that; just as I said, about nothing.Divide themselves into two parties; my coolies on one side, the junk'screw on the other. If I hadn't gone and yelled horrid Chinese threatsat them there would have been a fight, and half the men unfit to workfor the rest of the day. You'll get used to them, though, I dare say.Not bad fellows, after all, when they've got some one over them whowon't let them bite, kick, and scratch like naughty children. Well, howdid you leave the governors?"

  "Oh, very well, considering what a scare we had the other night. Ithought the villains would kill us."

  "Yes, but you wouldn't let them. I told your uncle the last time I sawhim that he didn't take precautions enough, but he said he didn'tbelieve any one would dare to attack a place so near the city.Revolvers are all very well at close quarters, but not heavy enough fora horde of savages who think nothing of fighting to the death. Got arevolver?"

  "Yes," said Stan; "and a gun."

  "That's right. And after what you said, I suppose you know how to usethe pistol?"

  "I can shoot with it a little," said Stan, colouring slightly. "Isuppose you have one?"

  "What! Living out in this unprotected place? Well, rather! I'll showyou my little armoury after breakfast."

  "Have you ever been attacked?"

  "Not yet; but it's safe to come some time or other, so I hold myselfready. It's not quite so bad as I said last night."

  "No; I didn't think it was," replied Stan coolly; and he was consciousthat his host was watching him keenly.

  "But without any nonsense, you may have to fight, my lad, if you stayhere."

  "I hope not," said Stan, breaking the top of an egg.

  "So do I," said the manager. "I don't want my people scared, and theplace knocked to pieces or burned. That's the worst of a woodenbuilding like this. Ah! it's a risky trade, and your people deserve tomake plenty of profit for their venture."

  Little more was said till the breakfast was at an end, when the _ting_of a table-gong brought Wing into the room.

  "Take away," said the manager sharply; "and as soon as you have done, Iwant you to hire a boat and go up-river to stop at all the villages thatwere not touched at before you went away. We must do more business withthe places higher up. You go and see the headmen of some of thetea-plantations there who have never dealt with us yet. Understand?"

  The man nodded sharply, and the manager turned to Stan.

 
; "Now then," he said; "let's look at the tools."

  He led the way into a warehouse-like place, one end of which wasfurnished with an arms-rack holding a dozen rifles, bayonets, andbandoliers. In a chest beside them were a dozen revolvers; and afterdisplaying these, every weapon being kept in beautiful order, atrap-door in the floor was pointed out, regularly furnished with keyholeand loose ring for lifting.

  "Key hangs in my room, if you want it when I'm out," said the managermeaningly.

  "I'm not likely to want the key of the cellar," said Stan, smiling.

  "Cellar? Nonsense! That's the little magazine. Oh no! the cases downthere are not cases of wine, but of cartridges for rifle and revolver."

  "Oh!" said Stan thoughtfully, for the announcement was of a verysuggestive nature--one which brought up the night of the attack inHai-Hai.

  "There we are, then, if we have to fight," said Blunt.

  "With whom?" asked Stan sharply.

  "Ah! who knows?" said Blunt, laughing. "River pirates; wandering bandsof Chinese robbers; disbanded soldiers of the Government; anybody.China's a big country, my lad, and abominably governed, but a splendidland all the same, teeming with a most hard-working, industriouspopulation, eager to engage in trade, and on the whole good, honest folkwho like dealing with us, and are free from prejudices, excepting thatthey look upon us as a set of ignorant barbarians--foreign devils, asthey call us. But it doesn't matter much. We know better--eh?"

  "Of course," said Stan, laughing. "But you have a good many Chinese atwork for you here; don't you ever feel afraid of them rising against youand the English clerks?"

  "One way and another, there are about ten of them to one of us; and asin the case of a row the whole countryside would take part with them,you might say they would be a hundred or a thousand to one against usand still be within bounds."

  "It seems very risky," said Stan thoughtfully; "and of course you andthe clerks dread a rising against you."

  "Against us, you ought to say now, my lad," said Blunt, smiling. "Butwe are not a bit afraid, and when you have been here a few months youwon't be either."

  Stan flushed a little, and said hurriedly:

  "Of course, it is excusable for me to feel a bit nervous at first. Yousee, I had such a nasty experience the other night."

  "To be sure," said Blunt. "And mind, I don't say but what we live in aconstant state of alarm about an attack like that, but not of our ownpeople. They wouldn't go against us."

  "Why?" said Stan.

  "Because the round, smooth-faced beggars like me."

  The thought of what he had heard from Wing, and learnt from his ownobservation of the manager, had such a perplexing effect upon the ladthat his countenance assumed an aspect of so ludicrous a nature thatBlunt burst into a roar of laughter.

  "I see," he cried; "you can't digest that. It doesn't fit with myroaring and shouting at them just now? Well, it doesn't seem to, but itdoes. You'll see. You'll soon find out that the men all like me verymuch, and I believe that if we were in great trouble they'd fight to thedeath for me--to a man. Like to know why?"

  "Of course," said Stan.

  "Well, then, I'll tell you. I'm master, king, magistrate, doctor,everything to them. They come to me about their quarrels and theirailments; to get their money, and then bank it with me; and the reason Ibelieve in them and they believe in me is because I am just as fair asin me lies. If I find a man skulking and kick him, do you think theothers side with him?"

  "I should expect them to," said Stan.

  "Then you're wrong. They roar with laughter, and enjoy seeing theirfellow punished. They're shrewd enough, and know that the idler isputting his share of work upon them. If there's a quarrel amongst themthey come to me to settle it. If a man's sick he comes to me, and I tryto set him right. Nurse him up sometimes. When they want a treat theycome to me to draw out part of their earnings that I have banked forthem. Bah! I'm not going to preach a sermon about what I do. I'm justto them, I tell you, and they know it. I trust them, and they trust me.Come along; let's go and see how they're getting on with the unloading.Let's go in here, though, first."

  He led the way by stacks of bales and piles of tea-chests, all neatlyarranged like a wall--a great cube built up from floor to ceiling--andpassing through an opening, went down a narrow alley in the greatstore-room, with a wall of half-chests built up on either side, andentered an open doorway to where half-a-dozen clerks and warehousemenwere busy. The former were making out bills of lading and entries inbooks, the latter sampling teas--one with little piles of the driedleaves in cardboard trays, which he was testing in rotation; whileanother sat at a table upon which was a copper contrivance standing upona slab of granite, with a glowing charcoal fire burning beneath a brighturn, the fumes and steam being carried off by a little metal tube funnelwhich passed out through the top of an open chimney.

  Right and left of this employee was a row of little earthenware Chineseteapots, and as many cups and saucers; the pots being labelled as theywere used with cards attached to the handles, and marked with lettersand numbers corresponding with those on the little cardboard trayscontaining the dried tea.

  "Mr Stanley Lynn, gentlemen," said the manager sharply. "He has comein his uncle's place to stay with us for a time."

  The introduction was brief, and then the lad was hurried out on to thewharf, where the manager made his appearance suddenly. His presenceacted like a stimulus, setting every one working at a double rate ofspeed, in spite of the scorching sun, which was beginning to glow withso much fervour that the strange gum used to caulk the seams of thegreat junk in process of being unloaded began to ooze out and form brownglobules like little tadpoles with tails.

  Everything was new and interesting to Stan, and the day passed veryquickly, the manager seeming eager to explain everything to his newcolleague; and, saving when now and then he burst out into fierceinvectives against offending coolies and the _tindal_ of the junk, hewas mildness itself.

  Stan could hardly believe it when closing-time came and the men ceasedwork.

  "Didn't think it was so late?" said Blunt, laughing.

  "No; the time has gone like lightning."

  "But don't you want your dinner?"

  "No," said Stan promptly; "I don't feel--Yes, I do," he cried. "Ididn't till you mentioned it."

  "Shows that you have been interested, my lad. There! come along; let'shave a wash and brush up, and then we'll see what the cook has for us.I'm afraid you'll have to put up with a makeshift meal again, as Wing ison the wing, as one may say, and I don't expect him back till to-morrownight, for he has a good way to go, and the boat will sail slowlyagainst stream. When he comes back with his report, I expect it will benecessary for me to go up and see some of the little native growers. Wemight take our guns and get a bit of sport among the snipes in thepaddy-fields; what do you say?"

  "I shall be delighted," cried Stan eagerly.

  "Like big-game shooting?" said the manager carelessly, but with atwinkle in his observant eye.

  "I never had the chance to try," replied Stan; "and I'm no hand at allwith a gun. I had two days' rabbit-shooting in England just before Icame away; that's all."

  "Hit any of the rabbits?"

  "Five."

  "Out of how many shots?"

  "About twenty," said the lad, colouring; "but, you see, I've had nopractice."

  "You'll get plenty here, and I'll teach you the knack of bringing downsnipe."

  "But you said something about big game," said Stan hesitatingly. "Whatdid you mean--pheasants--turkeys?"

  "Pheasants--turkeys!" cried the manager scornfully. "There are plentyof pheasants in the woods, but I mean tigers."

  "Tigers?"

  "Yes, my lad, tigers; hungry savages who carry off a poor Chineselabourer working in the fields now and then. There! wait a bit, andwe'll mix up a bit of sport with our work."

  That night Stan went to his bedroom and stood looking at the moonsilvering the river, thin
king that perhaps after all he might end bybeing good friends with the manager.

  "He's just like a chestnut," thought the boy--"all sharp, prickly huskoutside; good, rich brown skin under the husk; and inside all hard,firm, sweet nut. I say, it doesn't do to judge any one at first sight.I wonder what he thinks of me. I hope he likes me, but I'm afraid not,for he seems disposed to sneer at me now and then."

 

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