The Flying Boat Part 6

"Not free! Not clear, I suppose you mean. Why not? There's plenty of room between the rocks."

"Pilates, sah; plenty bad fellas."

"Hang the pirates! It's very kind of the billposter, but we've nothing worth scooping. Go on."

But game appeared to be scarce. Duck were seen in the distance, but Errington could never get within range. Determined not to return empty-handed, he went farther into the swamp, and was punting towards a thick growth of reeds fringing a piece of open water, on the far side of which he had noticed some birds, when his eye was caught by a boat floating apparently towards this open water down a narrow and irregular channel from the Yang-tse. The channel was so much overgrown with reeds and rushes that it was not easy to distinguish the nature of the approaching craft. Errington took up his binocular and scanned it, expecting to discover that it was a sampan, like that in which he was himself travelling. But on closer inspection it proved to be more like a dinghy, and probably belonged to some vessel anch.o.r.ed in the neighbourhood.

It was too far off for him to see clearly the two men in the dinghy; they had their backs to him, but their general appearance suggested Chinamen. All at once a slight turn in their course revealed what had previously not been visible, they were towing an object of much larger size. It was impossible to distinguish it; it might be a raft or a large sampan loaded with goods.

Reckless as his mood was, Errington was not utterly rash, or disposed to court danger out of pure wilfulness. While he was watching the boats, he drew the sampan within the shelter of the clump of reeds through which he was making his way.

"Take a look," he said, handing the binocular to his servant, who, however, preferred to use his own eyes.

"China fellas, sah," he said in a low voice. "My tinkee better go back chop-chop."

The man had felt all along that his master was foolish to come alone into these parts, so far from the town; but he knew the Englishman's temper, and the rejection of his former word of warning had kept him silent since. Now, however, the sight of a strange boat, manned by Chinamen, near the haunts of the pirates, induced him to offer more definite advice.

But in vain. Errington was not the man to be scared by actual dangers, still less imaginary ones. The moving boats had frightened away the ducks, so that there was no present chance of sport. And having nothing better to do for the moment, he drove the sampan quietly still farther among the reeds, bade Lo San keep still, and settled to watch the strangers.

As they drew nearer, he noticed something that piqued his curiosity.

The men in the boat, whom he now knew to be Chinamen, looked cautiously around, as if to make sure that they were not observed. Screened though he was by the reeds, Errington had the curious sensation which watchers often have, that those whom he could see also saw him. But the men gave no sign of uneasiness; the dinghy pa.s.sed behind the further edge of the clump of reeds, and disappeared.

Errington was now sufficiently interested to determine to wait. Ten or twelve minutes afterwards, the nose of the dinghy emerged from the rushes; the men turned it round, and made off in the direction from which they had come. But Errington saw at a glance that there was now no object astern of them. He wondered what it was, and where it had been left. Probably the circ.u.mstance would not have held his attention for a moment but for the men's cautious look around; their manner suggested that they were hiding something. It might be no business of his; on the other hand, it struck him that, since the incident had happened in a district infested by pirates, some of these pests had recently made a haul of goods. He felt that at all hazards he must satisfy himself; not that there appeared to be any danger, but he could not tell but that, behind the screen of reeds at the farther end of the open water, there might be an encampment of the water-rats, as these gentry were called by the Englishmen. The object with which Errington had set out was forgotten; duck-shooting was an exciting sport, but it did not challenge his imagination as did the possibility of a contest of wits or activity with men; and with nerves braced he resolved to investigate.

Venturesome as he was in ordinary circ.u.mstances, Errington was not without the instinctive cautiousness of the born scout. He did not, therefore, head straight across the pool, as any one who knew him slightly, and argued only from his impulsiveness, might have expected him to do. Instead, he forced the sampan slowly and with some difficulty through the margin of rushes bordering the pool. Many other channels besides that on which the boat had come, led from the open water to the river. Coming to one of these narrower pa.s.sages, he glanced up and down before crossing it, to make sure that there were no other men who might see him and interfere with his movements. His object was to reach the wider channel, and then follow the course that had been taken by the dinghy.

It occurred to him that the dinghy, when it disappeared among the rushes, might have towed the second craft to a pirate encampment; and as the direction in which it had gone was on his right-hand side, he took the left-hand side of the pool, and punted slowly along until he came to a spot where the broad channel was open to his view for a considerable distance. He looked in the direction in which the dinghy was going when he last saw it. It was no longer in sight. With another cautious glance round, pausing for a few moments to listen, he crept out into the pool, and set out for the other side. It was not very difficult to find the narrow opening in the reeds through which the dinghy had pa.s.sed with the other vessel in tow. But when he had once entered it, he saw how almost impossible it would have been to find his way had he not carefully noted the exact place of entry. Reeds grew out of the water on every side.

There was no real pa.s.sage; apparently it was not a regular waterway, and he ceased to expect to see any human habitation at the further end, wherever that might be. The water was shallow, and the only indication that it was navigable at all was afforded by the bent rushes where the two craft had previously pa.s.sed.

After proceeding for a few yards, however, he found that the water became slightly deeper, and there were some signs of the reeds having been cut. An attempt had apparently been made to clear a channel. His former idea returned to him; perhaps it led to an encampment after all.

He drove the sampan on with even greater caution, becoming more and more interested as he noticed how the channel wound this way and that among the thickest beds of rushes.

Threading this tortuous channel for perhaps a hundred yards, he came with startling suddenness upon the object of his search. The reeds came to an end, and on a stretch of firm ground, rising three or four feet above the level of the swamp, four or five low ramshackle huts, constructed of poles and matting, stood about thirty yards back from the edge of the water. The s.p.a.ce between them and the water was littered with an extraordinary miscellany of objects, all of them of a more or less imperishable character--pots and pans, vases, tiles, native images, and other things, which from their arrangement in bales, bundles, or stacks, appeared to be articles of merchandise, but not in actual use here.

With his knowledge of the kind of thing that went on in these swamps, Errington at once guessed that these objects were the spoil of trading vessels captured by the river pirates and brought to this cunningly devised or carefully sought hiding-place. There were black rings here and there on the ground that were without doubt the marks of camp-fires.

But the place had a deserted, a neglected, look. The huts were boarded up, except where they were so tumbledown that no such precaution was possible. Three or four old and rickety sampans were drawn up at the brink. But the object which had been towed by the dinghy was floating, secured by a rope to one of the uprights of a ruined hut close to the sh.o.r.e.

Errington looked at it curiously. It appeared from its shape to be a boat of some kind, but being completely covered with matting its outlines were indistinguishable. Wondering what its contents could be, to be so carefully covered up, Errington punted the sampan alongside, and lifted a corner of the matting. What he saw gave him a surprise comparable only to a galvanic shock. Underneath was a stretch of canvas that exactly resembled a wing of the flying boat, folded back, as Burroughs' custom was when the vessel was not in use. Lifting the matting further, Errington had no more doubt. The object before him, shapeless and ungainly as it was under its cover, was indeed the flying boat.

Lo San's astonishment was equal to his own. The Chinaman uttered a smothered "Hai!" then looked fearfully around, as if expecting that the sound would bring a crew of the dreaded pirates yelling about them. But there was no sound, no sign of life.

Errington's first impulse was to tow the vessel out, and convey it to his own station. Then a doubt crossed his mind. The dinghy which had brought it to this spot had been unmistakably of European build. The vessel from which it had come was probably not far distant. Perhaps Burroughs himself was on it. Errington puzzled his brain to hit upon any reason why his old friend should have wished to conceal his hydroplane in this swamp. Had he come up on business, or pleasure?

Could it be that Mr. Ting, in his journey down-stream, had called at Sui-Fu, informed Burroughs of the mess into which Errington had got, and persuaded him to come up and attempt to set matters right? The thought made him angry. He flushed hot at what, in his perverted imagination, he looked upon as a breach of confidence.

"Hanged if I'll interfere!" his thoughts ran. "I'm not the keeper of the thing, confound it!" (This was the vessel in which he and Burroughs had spent so many pleasant hours.) "A pretty a.s.s I should look if I took it back, and found that the Mole intended it to be hidden. The place is evidently deserted. No, I'm dashed if I do anything. It's no concern of mine."

Dropping the matting back, he swung the sampan round, and begun to punt somewhat savagely towards the pool. The old sore was reopened. The occupation and excitement had for a time banished all recollection of his wretched circ.u.mstances; but everything now came back to him; the weight bore down again upon his spirit.

"Makee too muchee bobbely,[#] sah!" murmured Lo San anxiously.

[#] Noise.

The warning recalled Errington's caution. He was still within the pirates' hunting-ground. He took care to urge the sampan less violently; but, on coming safely to the river, resumed his energetic movements. It was a long pull back, and he was tired when, late in the afternoon, he again reached the town.

CHAPTER VIII

CROWDED MOMENTS

Feverishly anxious not to be left alone with his thoughts, Errington was glad to accept an invitation to dinner that evening with an Englishman with whom he had lately become rather friendly. They were sitting over their coffee when a third member of the little community came in.

"Sit down, Hamilton," said Errington's host, whose name was Stevens.

"Have a cigar? You look as if you'd hurried up. Anything wrong?"

"Same old thing. The rebels have licked the Government troops, and are marching on Cheng Tu. The same performance will be gone through, I suppose: riot and burning, a bit of a ma.s.sacre, a scare among the Europeans; then the Viceroy will take it in hand; he'll pay for the capture of Su Fing; his head will fly, and then we'll have peace for a year or two. All comes of education, Stevens; you don't agree with me, I know; but if they weren't so desperately fond of examinations and remained in their primal ignorance, I believe there'd be no rebellions.

Su Fing has pa.s.sed more examinations than any other man in the province."

"Well, let's be thankful they're so far away. They won't trouble us."

"I'm not so sure. You know young Burroughs of Sui-Fu? You know him, of course, Errington?"

"Yes."

Errington had never spoken of Burroughs or his intimacy with him: the subject was too sore.

"Well, that flying boat of his of which we've heard accounts has disappeared. I don't know the particulars, but we got a wire an hour ago asking us to keep a look-out."

"A trick of the river pirates, I suppose," said Mr. Stevens: "nothing to do with the rebellion."

"Perhaps not; but Su Fing owes Burroughs a grudge for his interference in that affair with Ting Chuh. By the way, weren't you in that too, Errington?"

"I lent a hand."

"If Su Fing isn't in it himself, you may be sure some of his people are, and it looks as if we shall have trouble all up the Min."

"You're not going, Errington?" said Mr. Stevens, as his guest rose.

"If you don't mind. I've a bit of a headache, and mean to turn in early."

"Sorry. Well, come up to-morrow, and we'll have a rubber. Good-night."

The headache was not feigned, but Errington's princ.i.p.al reason for leaving early was that he wished to think over the news he had just heard. The flying boat had been stolen, then! He could hardly explain to himself why he had said nothing of his discovery; unconsciously, no doubt, he felt that to speak would have opened up the matter of his lost friendship with Burroughs--a matter which he could not have discussed.