Blue Jackets Part 75

"Ching so velly mislable," he whispered back. "Mr Blooke think him velly bad man. Think Ching want to give evelybody to pilate man. Ching velly velly solly."

"Hist! look out!"

I suppose our whispering had been heard, for just as we were being steered pretty close to the anch.o.r.ed junk, a deep rough voice hailed us something after this fashion, which is as near as I can get to the original--

"Ho hang wong hork ang ang ha?"

"Ning toe ing nipy wong ony ing!" cried Ching.

"Oh ony ha, how how che oh gu," came from the junk again, and then we were right on ahead.

"Well," whispered Mr Brooke, "what does he say? Is it one of the pirate vessels?"

"No pilate. Big boat come down hong, sir. Capin fellow want to know if we pilate come chop off head, and say he velly glad we all good man."

"Are you quite sure?" said Mr Brooke.

I heard Ching give a little laugh.

"If pilate," he said, "all be full bad men. Lightee lantern; thlow stink-pot; make noise."

"Yes," said Mr Brooke; "this cannot be one of them. Here, hail the man again, and ask him where he is going."

"How pang pong won toe me?" cried Ching, and for answer there came two or three grunts.

"Yes; what does he say?"

"Say he go have big long sleep, 'cause he velly tired."

Mr Brooke said no more, but ran the boat down the river some little distance and then began to tack up again, running across from side to side, so as to make sure that the junks did not slip by us in the darkness. But hour after hour glided on, and the lights ash.o.r.e and on the boats gradually died out, till, with the exception of a few lanterns on vessels at anchor, river and sh.o.r.e were all alike one great expanse of darkness, while we had to go as slowly as possible, literally creeping along, to avoid running into craft moored in the stream.

And all this time perfect silence had to be kept, and but for the intense desire to give good account of the junks, the men would soon have been fast asleep.

"Do you think they will come down and try to put to sea, Ching?" I said at last, very wearily.

"Yes, allee 'flaid Queen Victolia's jolly sailor boy come steam up liver and send boat up cleek, fight and burn junks. Come down velly quick."

"Doesn't seem like it," I said, beginning at last to feel so drowsy I could not keep my eyes open.

"So velly dark, can't see."

"Why, you don't think they will get by us in the darkness?" I said, waking up now with a start at his words, and the bad news they conveyed.

"Ching can't tell. So velly dark, plenty junk go by; n.o.body see if velly quiet. Ching hope not get away. Wantee Mr Brooke catchee both junk, and no think Ching like pilate man."

"Here, I must go and have a talk to Mr Brooke," I said; and I crept back to where he sat steering and sweeping the darkness he could not penetrate on either side.

"Well, Herrick," he said eagerly. "News?"

"Yes, sir; bad news. Ching is afraid that the junks have crept by us in the night."

"I have been afraid so for some time, my lad, for the tide must have brought them down long enough ago."

He relapsed into silence for a few minutes, and then said quietly--

"You can all take a sleep, my lads; Mr Herrick and I will keep watch."

"Thankye, sir, thankye," came in a low murmur, and I went forward to keep a look-out there; but not a man lay down, they all crouched together, chewing their tobacco, waiting; while Ching knelt by the bows, his elbows on the gunwale, his chin resting upon his hands, apparently gazing up the river, but so still that I felt he must be asleep, and at last startled him by asking the question whether he was.

"No; too much head busy go sleep. Want findee allee pilate, show Mr Blooke no like pilate. Velly 'flaid all gone."

How the rest of that night went by, I can hardly tell. We seemed to be for hours and hours without end tacking to and fro, now going up the river two or three miles, then dropping down with the tide, and always zig-zagging so as to cover as much ground as possible. The night lengthened as if it would never end; but, like all tedious times of the kind, it dragged its weary course by, till, to my utter astonishment, when it did come, a faint light dawned away over the sea beyond the mouth of the river, just when we were about a mile below the city.

That pale light gradually broadened, and shed its ghastly chilly beams over the sea, making all look unreal and depressing, and showed the faces of our crew, sitting crouched in the bottom of the boat, silent but quite wide-awake.

Then all started as if suddenly electrified, for Ching uttered a low cry, and stood up, pointing right away east.

"What is it?" I said.

"Two pilate junk."

We all saw them at the same time, and with a miserable feeling of despondency, for there was no hiding the fact. The river was wide, and while we were close under one bank they had glided silently down under the other, and were far beyond our reach.

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

THE UNTRUSTWORTHY AGENT.

"Eaten, Herrick," said Mr Brooke in a low voice.

"Not yet, sir," I said.

I don't know how it was that I said those words. They came to my lips and I uttered them, making Mr Brooke turn round upon me sharply, in the grey light of dawn.

"What do you mean by that, boy?" he said.

"Mean? I don't--I--that is,"--I stammered; "I wouldn't give up yet, sir."

"What would you do? wait for them to come back?" he said bitterly.

"No," I cried, gaining courage; "go after them, sir."

"And attack and take them with this boat, Herrick?" he said, smiling at me rather contemptuously.

"Of course we couldn't do that, sir," I said, "but we might follow and keep them in sight. We should know where they went."

"Yes," he said, after a moment's thought; "but we may be away for days, and we must have provisions. What is to be done?"