.dt Rice Papers, by H. L. Norris–A Project Gutenberg eBook
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RICE PAPERS
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RICE PAPERS
BY
H. L. NORRIS
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“EXERCISE YOUR FACULTIES OF SEEING, AND YOU
WILL GET GOOD THINGS TO EAT”
Chinese Proverb
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LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
NEW YORK AND BOMBAY
1905
All rights reserved
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TO
THE COMMODORE
AND OFFICERS
OF
H.M.S. “TAMAR”
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THESE stories possess the merit of
not being true, nor are they necessarily
founded on fact; they were written
during three years’ service in China, and
their conception served to more or less
pleasantly while away many hours. If
they afford the reader as many pleasant
minutes, they will have well fulfilled their
purpose. To those whose ideas of a
Chinaman are gathered from the good-natured,
doddering idiot as he is so often
represented on the stage, he is here
shown in a different form, however inadequate
the portrayal may be.
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CONTENTS
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| To Explain | #1:ch00#
I. | The Story of Fung Wa Chun | #19:ch01#
II. | Feng Shuey | #51:ch02#
III.| The Backsliding of Lao | #79:ch03#
IV. | The Punishment of Hong | #107:ch04#
V. | Bone of my Bone | #129:ch05#
VI. | The Melancholy Magistrate of Foh Lin | #155:ch06#
VII. | The Hunchback’s Piety | #183:ch07#
VIII.| Hoo, the Daughter of Tak Wo | #209:ch08#
IX. | Kwa Niu’s Derby | #235:ch09#
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RICE PAPERS
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TO EXPLAIN
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THE sun had shone brilliantly and
torridly all day over the mud-laden
river, the surrounding paddy-fields, and
the copper-coloured backs of the sweating
Chinese boatmen as they laboured at their
yuloes in sampen and junk. It had, indeed,
been a hot day even for up-river, and the
extreme humidity of the atmosphere after
the rains made the heat felt in every pore
of the skin, so that even the half-naked
steersmen of the junks sweated at their
rudders.
But now the sun is setting. On all sides
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can be heard the rattle of the winches and
the creaking as the heavy mat sails slide
down the mast of the junks, a splash as
the stone-weighted wooden anchor drops
over the bows, and each junk in time
swings to its rattan-twisted cable in the
pea-soup known as fresh water in Chinese
rivers. The heavy damp air is suddenly
rent by a bugle note which signals the fact
that the flag which represents the sovereignty
of King Edward the Seventh is
being hauled down till eight a.m. the next
day on board the gunboat lying in the
muddy river.
A careful study of the illustrated weekly
papers will give us a fair knowledge of the
appearance of the average naval officer,
and we shall also gather from this same
source that when he’s not rushing about
after niggers with a field-gun, he’s employed
attending balls at various Government
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Houses, or talking to beautiful ladies
on a huge electric-lighted quarter-deck,
what time the moon calmly shines on
some picturesque Mediterranean harbour.
Undoubtedly our friends have experienced
all these social joys in their time,
but at present they are far removed from
such soothing influences. Still, we have to
deal with a gunboat of some pretensions,
one wherein a gossamer vest and white
trousers are not considered de rigueur
for dinner. The wardroom is much as
others in a “bug trap,” but it has one
great adornment, a punkah, which is pulled
during meal hours by a diminutive and
quite expressionless “makee learn.” The
lights are burning and the table laid for
four, the “makee learn” is waiting by the
pantry hatch ready to pull the punkah, and,
on the entry of an officer, comes in and,
sitting on a stool, begins to violently jerk
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the rope leading through a brass sheave to
the small punkah which flaps away some
large and well-fed bluebottles.
The officer is smoking a cigarette, and
dressed in white duck trousers, a soft
white shirt, and white mess-jacket, all of
which goes to prove that we are in a
smart ship. He strolls idly over to the
thermometer hanging on the bulkhead
and observes that the mercury stands at
84°. He idly places the burning end of his
cigarette near the bulb of the thermometer
and watches the mercury rise to 95°, while
the “makee learn” violently agitates the
punkah. Having performed this simple
operation he sits in a cane chair, and
another officer enters and flings himself
on a settee without any remark.
“Good evening, Pill,” says the first
officer. “Pretty hot to-night.”
“Don’t agree with you,” remarks the
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other. “But, anyway, I’m open to bet
it isn’t ninety.”
“All right,” says the Chief, for such we
will call the person who first entered the
wardroom. “Bet you a sherry and bitters
it is.”
The surgeon jumps up and looks at the
thermometer, then leans over the table,
rings the electric bell, and sings out, “Ah
Hing, two sherries and bitters!”
The bitters are brought in and disposed
of, and then another officer comes in.
“Nice and cool to-night, Pill,” he remarks.
“Don’t agree with you,” says the surgeon.
“But I think it’s much cooler,” remarks
the navigator, for that is the rating of the
new-comer.
“Well, I’ll bet you it’s over ninety,”
says the surgeon.
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“What’ll you bet?” says the navigator.
“Oh, a cocktail, to-morrow forenoon.
Then look for yourself,” says the surgeon.
The navigator strolls over to the thermometer
and says, “Eighty-eight.”
“Be blowed for a yarn!” says the surgeon.
“Let’s look.” But on consulting
the mercury column he finds it stands
at eighty-eight, so muttering a curse
that everybody and everything is against
him to-day he sits down and shouts to
Ah Hing to bring some chow-chop-chop.
“Hurry up, Ah Hing!” says “No. 1”
as he comes in. “Hullo, my pippins!
What cher! Well, Pill, fisherman’s luck,
eh? Shot anything?”
“Yes,” says Pill; “darned sight too
much!”
“Well, tell us all about it. You’ve
been grubbin’ round the Chinese city
I suppose, Chief, lookin’ for curios?”
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“Yes,” remarks the engineer officer;
“and got two bits of blue and white
china and a confoundedly ancient-looking
joss.”
Ah Hing brings in the soup, and
“No. 1” says: “Well, doc, you might
tell your adventures to the poor devil
who’s had nothing to do but stop aboard
the ship in this confounded stinking
river.”
Thus appealed to the surgeon begins—
“A day like this is enough to break
any man’s heart. I haven’t the pluck now
to open a jackpot on four kings, feeling
certain somebody’d hold four aces and
the joker against me. As you know, we
two went shooting, and left the Chief to
grub about the native city for curios.
When we landed we hired two coolies
to carry the drinks and chow, which they
slung on a pole between them, and off we
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went to the right among the paddy-fields.
There wasn’t a thing in the paddy except
frogs, snakes, and cockie-ollie birds, so we
went up towards the hills. Nothing to
be found there, but after passing a small
village we got into some scrub and long
grass, when up got a quail. It flew to
my left rear, and I let him have one
barrel. Then he passed right behind me,
and I let him have the other barrel, the
contents of which went smack into the
lunch-basket and blew it to bits. In
the excitement I’d never noticed that our
coolies were only a few yards behind me.
There was instantly no end of a hullabaloo,
and one coolie lay on the ground
kicking and rubbing himself furiously,
what time both of them kept up a most
damnable screaming. I ran up to see
what was the matter, and saw that his
chest was covered with blood; but all my
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efforts at getting a look at his wound
were unavailing, as he would keep rubbing
his hands over his chest. My own
opinion is that he hadn’t got at most more
than one pellet in him; but I had no
further time to look after him, because we
were in a few seconds surrounded by
the men, women, children, lunatics, and
incurably leprous of the neighbouring
village. They got to hustling us, and
things looked ugly. All of ’em were
singing out something in Chinese, and
when they started pulling me about I
got nasty and let out at ’em. Then they
took my gun away, and by this time we
were nearly crushed by the crowds round
us. It was no use to create international
complications by letting ’em have a few
charges of No. 6, so we concluded to
go without resisting to their village and
see the matter out. So the howling,
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stinking mob conducted us to their village,
and led us through filthy pig-infested lanes
to an open space near the centre of the
village, in which stood a dismal banyan
tree, under whose shade a baby or two
and some half-dozen hens and scraggy
pigs were grubbing. A very benevolent-looking,
grey-bearded Chinaman
approached, and from the increased yells
of our conductors we concluded that he
was a man of some importance. He
calmly surveyed us for quite a while, and
spoke to our furiously shouting accusers
in a calm and passionless manner. The
wounded coolie was brought forward amid
more shouts and gesticulations, and our
ancient friend spoke a few words to him
in a rather off-hand manner.
“We were getting a bit tired of all
this hoop-hooraying when suddenly our
ancient friend turned to me and said,
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‘Say, what you goin’ to do about it?’
We were both pretty surprised at hearing
him speak English, but I was jolly glad
to find someone could understand us. I
explained that the whole thing was an
accident, that the man wasn’t much hurt,
and that now, as we understood each other,
we might go back to the ship, as having
lost our tiffin, we didn’t care to do any
more shooting that day. Our genial
friend smiled kindly on us, and said it
would be very hard to make his poor
uneducated fellow-villagers understand
that the shooting had not been done on
purpose. He explained that no Chinaman
was such a fool as to suppose that
anyone with sense would shoot at a bird
flying, that a bird could by no possibility
be shot unless sitting still, and that my
firing into the luncheon-basket was only
a pretext to kill both coolies when they
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least expected it. He remarked, moreover,
‘We’ve got your gun, and I guess
it’s worth at least forty dollars gold,
so you’d better pay up if you want to
get back to your ship. We know that
in time you’ll be rescued by a landing-party,
but we think you’d prefer to pay
up rather than spend a night or two in
our flea-infested village and be laughed
at by your messmates when you do return.’
I got pretty angry at this and
said, ‘I wish I had a few blue-jackets
and marines now, and we’d knock hell
out of your old village!’
“The ancient Chinaman smiled and
said, ‘In your country you have an Employers’
Liability Act by which you’d have
to pay for this coolie’s injury.’ We found
then that we had a man of education to
deal with, so I said I’d pay within
reason but that I was dead keen to get
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aboard, and didn’t care if I never went
shooting again in China.
“Then we got on to the question of
money; I had two silver dollars and
a ten and five dollar Hong Kong note.
My Chinese friend explained that paper
money was of no use to villagers, that if
I handed over the lot to him he’d pay the
two silver dollars to the wounded man in
compensation, that later on he might manage
to negotiate the paper money (for the
good of the village), and that if I’d give
twenty more dollars on the morrow to his
representative he’d return my gun. At the
same time he added that if the navigator
attempted to use his gun and resist that
the villagers would eat us raw.
“So we had to climb down. We left the
village escorted by a howling mob, and
now I’ve got to pay twenty Mexican
dollars to that smooth-tongued English-speaking
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Chinaman before I get my
12-bore back.
“Ah Hing, give me another whisky-and-soda.”
.hr 20%
Again the sun shines on the turbid pea-soup
river, the steaming paddy-fields, and
sunburnt backs of the sweating trackers
as they painfully tow the junks up-stream.
A continuous stream of junks drifts down
the river, steered by clumsy rudders and
big sweeps; now and then a Hakka boat
passes laden with lime made by burning
oyster-shells, and occasionally a steam
launch, flying the Chinese flag, belonging
to the Salt Commissioners or Imperial
Chinese Customs. The sun is now mounting
high in the heavens, when a sampan
puts off from the shore and goes alongside
the British gunboat. A grey-bearded
man steps up the gangway and, handing
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a double-barrelled gun to the quarter-master,
says, “Give that to the doctor,
please, and tell him that there is someone
waiting to see him.”
The quarter-master grunts, as much as
to say, “Well, I’m damned!” He hands
the gun to the surgeon in the wardroom
and says, “Chinaman to see you, sir.”
“Show him down, quarter-master,” replies
the surgeon, and the venerable
Chinaman is conducted to the wardroom.
“Well,” says the surgeon, “what’s to
prevent me, now I’ve got my gun back,
from having you pushed over the side into
your sampan and being told never to
come near the ship again?”
The Chinaman smiles and says, “Nothing,
except a foolish sense of honour
which prevents you from getting out of
a promise you’ve once made, even if you
know you’ve been badly swindled. When
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I sent your gun down to you I knew you
might have me thrown into the river, and
with some justice on your side, but I also
knew that, being a white man, you would
stick to your promise and pay me the
twenty dollars you agreed on yesterday.
I don’t admire you for it, but I know your
Western ways.”
“Look here,” says the surgeon, “you
speak devilish good English; here’s your
twenty dollars, and now we’re quits.
Have a drink, and tell us something about
yourself.”
“I will,” replies the Chinaman, “but
whether you believe it or not matters
little. I call myself Fung Wa Chun,” and
the story of Fung Wa Chun as heard by
the surgeon remains to be told.
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THE STORY OF FUNG WA CHUN
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THE STORY OF FUNG WA CHUN
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AH HING brought the drinks. The
surgeon pushed the cigarettes over
to Fung Wa Chun, and waited for him to
begin.
The Chinaman tasted his drink as one
accustomed to European liquids, and
began:—
“I think I was born in a sampan in
Hong Kong harbour; of that I’m not certain;
but anyway, my earliest recollections
are of living in a boat which was managed
entirely by my father and mother; and
there we lived, cooked, fed, and slept. We
used to also take foreigners off to their
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ships, and from their ships to the shore,
but the best times were at night. At dusk
my father would get a tough string net
out of the sleeping-place amidships. Each
mesh of this net was heavily weighted
with leaden bullets, and he’d attach it in
some clever manner to the inside of the
bamboo shelter we carried in the stern
sheets. Mother used to steer and work a
yulo aft. Father pulled an oar and managed
our one sail, and any passengers we
had sat under the bamboo shelter in the
stern sheets.
“At night time our passengers were
generally drunk, and by a simple contrivance
father could pull a string when we
got some way out in the harbour. The
weighted net would then fall on the semi-unconscious
passenger, and father and
mother with a few stabs finished him off.
Then came the counting of his possessions,
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the stripping of the body, and the
throwing over of the corpse, to be found
or not, as fate decided.
“I remember once we got a fare well
after dark. He was a huge, yellow-haired
man, very drunk, and, I think, a Scotchman.
Father and mother worked the
sampan out in the harbour, and then father
pulled the string. The net fell, and he
made two good jabs into the writhing
bundle with his knife. The man kicked
and fought horribly. He tore the net,
nearly broke the gunwale of the boat, and
at last got hold of father’s ankle in his
teeth just above the heel. Father jabbed
away with his knife, and didn’t dare to
howl, and mother had to drop the tiller
and come and help with the meat chopper.
She tore our net badly, but killed the man,
and then father’s ankle was released from
the dead man’s mouth, also with the
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chopper. We found less than a dollar on
that Scotchman, and my parent was lame
from the bite for the rest of his life.
“Although I was very young at that
time, still some of the incidents, insignificant
as they were, are impressed on my
memory.
“We used to have a heavy iron bar with
iron grapnels, with which we dragged for
drowned bodies—and not without success,
in those days; but they often had little
more than the clothes on them, so we
never became very prosperous.
“One night we had anchored just astern
of a foreign devils’ warship, and some time
after dark there was a big commotion on
deck. It appeared that a man had fallen
overboard, and about a minute after, our
sampan gave a lurch, and a spluttering
white man grabbed hold of our gunwale
and tried to get on board. Mother was
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cooking the evening rice and fish at the
time, and she made a cut at one of his
hands with a big knife. She chopped off
four fingers, and he gave a yell. Father
jumped forward at once and gave him one
blow over the head with an axe, and he
sank like a stone. Two or three boats
were lowered from the man-of-war. They
heard the man scream, and one boat came
alongside us, and an officer jumped aboard.
He began talking away hard in English,
and grabbed father by the queue. Of
course we couldn’t understand him, but
mother, who was always quick-witted, suddenly
picked up the four human fingers,
chucked them in the stew of rice, and
stirred them up hurriedly. The officer
could find no reason for suspecting us, so
soon shoved off in his boat to search elsewhere
for the missing man. We couldn’t
afford to waste rice, so after mother had
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picked out the fingers we had our evening
meal. Then we up anchor and started to
dredge with our grapnels for the dead
man. It was about slack water when
father killed him, so we knew he couldn’t
be far off; and some two hours after we
hooked on to him and dragged him up.
Then I learnt where your British sailors
keep their money: in a belt of flannel they
wear next their skin. We took eleven
dollars from that man, besides a silver
finger-ring and his clothes, and then we
cast him adrift. Not a bad night, although
our rice had been partly spoilt by his dirty
fingers.
“But these happy days were soon to be
ended. When I was between nine and
ten years of age the small-pox came.
Father got it first, and in his delirium
jumped overboard and was drowned;
mother had it at the same time, and she
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lay down in the sleeping-space amidships.
She died there the next day, and I was
alone and afraid in the sampan. However,
I cooked some rice and dried fish,
and the next day tried to get mother out
of the hold and throw her overboard.
But she’d got stiff by that time, and I
couldn’t move her any way. For days I
continued to cook rice and try to move
mother, but it was no good. As I told
you, I wasn’t yet ten years old, and couldn’t
yet properly manage a sampan alone; so
one day the police noticed something
wrong with my boat and came alongside.
Then they found an old woman dead in
the hold and your humble servant, aged
nine and a half, in command. Being
unable to escape, I had to go along with
the police; and I remained about two days
with them when a Chinaman came to see
me, said he was my uncle, my father’s
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brother, and that he would care for me as
his own son. Myself and the sampan,
which contained no inconsiderable quantity
of dollars, were handed over to this man,
and he conducted me to his establishment.
I’m sorry to say that this uncle was a
very bad man, very bad indeed; he
treated me shamefully.”
“You surprise me,” remarked the
surgeon; “after the lovable description
you have given of your father, it seems
impossible that his brother should not
have been possessed of ten thousand
virtues.”
The Chinaman took no notice of this
remark but proceeded.
“My life in my uncle’s house was hard
and unlovely, and I should certainly have
run away had I been able. He kept a
gambling and boarding-house, where a
man, after losing all his money, could go
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further and lose his body. A man who
had lost all might stake his liberty against
a sum of money, perhaps five dollars or
more; once he’d lost this he became the
property of the winner and passed into
‘the mansion of supreme blessedness,’
or, in other words, my uncle’s boarding-house;
there he was kept and fed, and on
occasions would be sent to sea in whatever
ship required. In other words, my
uncle was a crimp and supplied sailors to
the foreign ships that required them. He
was well known to all the China traders,
and could be relied on to fill up a ship
with whatever number of hands they required;
in fact, I’ve known him put dead
men on board if it chanced that he had
not the number in ‘the mansion of
supreme blessedness’ that a captain required.
He’d explain that the man was
drunk, carry him on board at night, and
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put him in the fo’c’sle when the ship was
sailing next morning at daylight. He
kept careful records of all he shipped and
the ships they sailed in, and when the
unfortunate men returned to Hong Kong
my uncle would be the first on board,
would have them again conducted to ‘the
mansion’ to be kept till again required,
and would himself draw their pay from
the Shipping Office. In this way you can
imagine that my wicked relation soon
grew rich. Me he kept as a sort of
servant to wait on the unfortunates in
‘the mansion of supreme blessedness’;
and for over two years I remained there,
being beaten, overworked, and underfed,
and had it not been for the healthy open-air
life that I had previously led I might
have succumbed to the hardships; still,
foul air never chokes a Chinaman, and
somehow I grew and increased in strength.
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The ‘mansion’ must have got unusually
depopulated at one time, because without
any previous warning I one day found
myself put on board a steamer with the
remainder of my uncle’s guests. The
steamer was bound for London with tea,
and my job was to cook rice, etc., for the
firemen and stokers. This job necessitated
my turning out in every watch. I
was kicked and cuffed by all the engine-room
hands, and was at their beck and
call day and night. Sleep I got when I
could, food what I could steal, wages
none, and my continual unhappiness bred
in me an ever-increasing hatred of and
desire for revenge on my paternal uncle.
Of the voyage to England I remember
nothing, and I saw nothing of London
except the docks, as my work never
allowed of my going ashore. I managed,
however, to pick up some English from
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the stevedores, and after an absence of
about nine months I was once more back
in Hong Kong. To show you how unpopular
my uncle’s methods were with
some of his ‘guests,’ I may tell you that
the night before we entered Hong Kong
harbour three of his protégés jumped
overboard and were drowned, rather than
partake of his further hospitality. As
was to be expected, the much-respected
father of the flock was the first on board,
and all the Chinese were conducted as
usual to his ‘boarding-house,’ while my
uncle talked politely to the captain and
arranged about drawing the pay next
day.
“We Chinese are an easily governed
race, and it never occurred to anyone of
our crowd to break away or resist my
uncle’s orders, so we all went ashore and
walked quietly to the ‘mansion.’ There
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we found a meal composed of better food
than usual, and I found that my place as
servant had been taken by a small boy, so
I could beat and curse him, as the others
did me in former days. Our condition as
‘guests’ had also greatly improved. We
occasionally had money with which we
could gamble, and now and then musicians
to play to us in the evening. By some
means my uncle found out that I could
speak a little English, and from that time
he had me to attend at his office all day,
in case my knowledge of English might
be useful. I soon picked up considerably
more of the language from the English
ship-captains, and in time became quite
indispensable to my uncle; but throughout
the whole time I was waiting but to
revenge myself on him for the hardships
he had made me endure as a child. I
soon learnt that my ‘Tai pan,’ or head of
.bn 042.png
.pn +1
the business, as my uncle was, was never
without a shining revolver, which he
carried somewhere in his loose silk jacket.
He also was surrounded by secret agents
and spies, who reported any matters concerning
his clients or subordinates that
might be of use to him. In many ways
I made myself useful to my uncle. I
studied the written language and learnt
to keep accounts, and was soon allowed
considerable freedom after ‘office hours.’
I studied to make myself indispensable to
my employer, and my success and discretion
in all matters entrusted to me soon
raised me high in his esteem, and the
importance of my work enabled me to
learn much of the inner workings of his
business. My uncle, when in his office,
invariably sat at a heavy black wood table
which faced the door, and this door was
approached by a narrow passage gained
.bn 043.png
.pn +1
by a steep staircase from the street. The
whole of this passage could be seen by
anyone seated at the table, and the flight
of stairs leading to the street was so steep
that no one from the street could see anything
that might happen in the passage.
As I became more necessary to my employer
I also began to receive more
servile treatment from the other clerks,
until it became the custom that when my
uncle was abroad I would take his seat
and arrange myself behind his table.
This pleased me excessively, and on one
occasion, while seated there, I began pulling
knobs and drawer handles near my
seat. To my great surprise, on pulling
one of these handles, two iron-grated
doors closed on the passage opposite my
table, their closure having the effect of
barring the exit or entrance of anyone
who had mounted the stair and was on
.bn 044.png
.pn +1
his way to enter the office. All the clerks
were greatly surprised and I was considerably
frightened, for if my employer
returned and found these iron gates closed
he would know that someone had been
using his table without authority. However,
on jerking the handle I had moved
in an opposite direction, the iron gates
disappeared into slots in the passage, and
my uncle entering within a few minutes,
any discussion that might have taken
place among us was rendered impossible.
Whether this incident occupied the minds
of the other clerks I know not, but it kept
me awake for nights, and I determined
that, should occasion arise, I’d investigate
the matter further. For some days
no opportunity arose, but after about ten
days my uncle was obliged to go to
dinner in another part of the city with
certain wealthy merchants, and he left me
.bn 045.png
.pn +1
in charge. Now was my chance—the
other clerks were only too glad to get
away—so soon after dusk I was alone in
the office, sitting at the big black table
with only a small oil-wick to light the
place. For a time I smoked quietly, and
when all seemed quiet I turned the handle
as before. Instantly the iron gates shut-to.
I reversed the handle, and they
opened. Then I tried other handles—some
were simply fixed on locked drawers,—but
after twisting one I heard a heavy
mass fall in the passage. I went to the
bars with the dim oil-lamp and gazed
down into a dark chasm which would
make even a Chinaman shudder. I
quickly returned and reversed the handle,
and on again looking through the iron
bars by the light of the oil-wick, I saw
that the passage was once more restored
with an even floor. I then reversed the
.bn 046.png
.pn +1
handle, which made the iron doors disappear
from view, and further examination
of this interesting table revealed only
locked drawers, in one of which I knew
my uncle kept his revolver, for when in
the streets he was only in the habit of
carrying a knife concealed in his sleeve.
After this eventful evening of big discoveries
I began to mature a plan of
revenge. I had by this time accumulated
a few dollars, and as I was allowed considerable
liberty, I could go out in the
city nearly every night. One night I
went out with all my dollars and purchased
a shining nickel-plated revolver. The
shopman wanted me to buy some cartridges
as well, but I was rather afraid of
them, and said that I had plenty of cartridges
at home. Carefully concealing the
weapon, I returned with a feeling of some
slight exultation to my business house.
.bn 047.png
.pn +1
An opportunity of carrying out my revenge
occurred the very next day, my
employer again going out to dinner; and
later I seated myself at his table with
my pistol to patiently await his return.
Then for the crowning moment of my life,
when I should have the cringing villain
howling to me for mercy. I thought of
all the cutting speeches, the recital of my
wrongs, and then of the horrible climax
and devilish punishment that I would
mete out to him. In this way the hours
of waiting passed most pleasantly.”
“I don’t doubt it for a moment,” says
the surgeon quietly.
Fung Wa Chun lit another cigarette,
sipped his drink, and with his face as
expressionless as a bronze Buddha, continued:—
“At last I heard his footsteps on the
stairs. My heart gave a jump. One step,
.bn 048.png
.pn +1
two steps, three—would he never reach
the landing? Then a pause and a faint
chuckle. My revered relation was evidently
slightly drunk. My hand trembled on the
handle lest I should close the gates before
he reached the landing. This staggering
and halting was annoying, it made it
difficult to count how many steps he had
come up. He occasionally slipped back
one, and I was getting into a fever of
excitement, for the dim oil-wick I was
using failed to illuminate the passage.
Now he was standing on the stair and
chuckling drunkenly to himself, curse him!
Part of my revenge would be foiled by his
having fuddled his wits with wine. I
wanted him to feel all, every bit of it, and
acutely too—now, perhaps, his sodden intellect
might not appreciate all the refinement
of horror I had stored up for him.
After what seemed several minutes the
.bn 049.png
.pn +1
sounds led me to suppose that he’d reached
the top step, and there he stopped to cough
and breathe hard. Then he staggered
along the passage. My heart was thumping
at my chest, I scarcely dared breathe.
At last the moment had come. Turning
the knob I heard the gates clang together,
and seizing my pistol and the lamp I
rushed to the grating. Inside I could see
him, dazed and leaning against the wall,
but no fear, no terror, only a silly drunken
laugh as before. The dim light did not
show his face. How was I to let him
know in this his drunken state that it
was I, the down-trodden servant, who
was at last to hold him in this awful
power?
“Gently I spoke to him, saying, ‘It is
I, most honourable uncle, it is the despised
and insignificant Fung Wa Chun, who
presumes to address your august personage.’
.bn 050.png
.pn +1
‘Let not the honourable Fung Wa
Chun be afraid to disclose the gentle
thoughts that are concealed in his honourable
bosom,’ said a voice behind me. I
turned in abject horror, my heart stopped
beating, and there I saw my uncle, seated
at his table, calmly pointing his shining
pistol at my breast. ‘Oh, intellectual and
far-seeing Fung Wa Chun,’ he murmured,
‘did you suppose that my secret agents
served me so ill that I did not know that
you had discovered the secret of the passage?
Do you think that I was not aware
of your purchase of that remarkably handsome
revolver you hold in your somewhat
shaky hands?’ I flung the thing from
me, for I was angry, and perhaps showed
unbecoming heat in my reply as I said,
‘Your deeply learned remarks are as lost
on my degraded ears as the singing of the
trimetrical classic would be unconvincing
.bn 051.png
.pn +1
to the ears of a deaf monkey.’ My uncle
smiled and said, ‘First I will release my
honourable friend Su Wing, and then we
will talk seriously.’ He pressed the button,
and the inebriated Su Wing stumbled into
the room, and falling into a chair, assumed
an air of owlish content. My uncle then
continued, ‘For one who has attempted
violence on myself I seldom show mercy—the
sliding floor of yonder passage could
tell some curious tales. But, dear nephew,
I’ve for some time observed you and your
ways, and have been minded to adopt you
as my son and make you my heir. I
prefer to be served by fear rather than
love; that you do not love me to-night’s
business has proved, but that you fear me
I now feel fairly certain. Therefore, I
spare your life. Know, gentle nephew, that
the few secrets you have discovered are
nothing to what this house contains, but
.bn 052.png
.pn +1
your future exalted position will make my
spies doubly zealous in observing your
every action, so to-morrow I shall publicly
adopt you as my son, feeling confident
that from fear you will prove a faithful if
not loving descendant. Now go!’ I went
to bed feeling as one who has been condemned
to death and unexpectedly reprieved.
That my uncle would kill me
when I was discovered I had no doubt,
and now finding myself released and free
my sensations were more than I can describe.
Bewildered, I stumbled to my bed,
and almost at once fell into a deep sleep.
“What happened in the office no one
knows, perhaps my uncle caroused with
the bibulous Su Wing; at any rate, I was
awakened from a deep sleep by a cry of
fire, and found that our extensive premises
were well in the power of the flames. All
efforts to suppress the conflagration were
.bn 053.png
.pn +1
vain; and next morning I, who had every
prospect of being heir to a large estate,
found myself homeless and penniless in
Hong Kong. My uncle and the bibulous
Su Wing were both presumably victims
of the disaster, and I could lay no claim
to a single cash saved from the ruins.
For three days I nearly starved trying to
find employment in Hong Kong as a clerk,
and finally, to earn rice, I was obliged to
take service in the police as a “lukong” or
native policeman. The open-air life pleased
me, but there was little money in the
trade, and having no credentials, I could
get nothing better, although my knowledge
of English got me speedy advancement,
such as it was. For some years I remained
in the police, until an incident
happened which made it possible for me
to leave the service.
“The incident referred to happened in
.bn 054.png
.pn +1
this way. Being on duty after midnight
in the western part of the town, I heard
a noise going on in a side street. I went
cautiously (as our manner was) up the
street, and found a well-dressed European
being attacked by two chair-coolies. As
soon as he saw me he shouted for help,
and the two coolies ran away. I rushed up
at once, and seeing the street was quite
empty and that the European was nearly
spent, I drew my sword and gave him a
slash over the head. He dropped like
a log, and I had sufficient experience in
these matters to know that I’d killed him.
A hasty examination of his pockets revealed
a large wad of Hong Kong and
Shanghai bank-notes, a gold watch and
chain, and a large diamond ring on his
right little finger. The notes and ring
I took for myself, leaving some five dollars
in loose cash in his pockets, also the
.bn 055.png
.pn +1
watch, as I did not wish it to appear that
he’d been robbed. As I removed the
finger-ring I noticed that a white band
remained on his little finger, as his hand
was much tanned by the sun. Again my
sword came in useful, and I chopped off
his little finger, and threw it down a drain,
at the same time blowing my whistle
loudly. I was soon joined by another lukong
and a European policeman. Having
explained that I’d just found the man in
this condition, we carried him off to the
police-station. A great hue-and-cry was
raised for his murderers, but they were
never found. I was congratulated for my
promptness in the affair by the authorities,
and found that the notes amounted to two
thousand dollars odd; and later I sold the
ring for two hundred dollars. I remained
some few months longer in the police, so
as to allay any suspicion, and then resigned.
.bn 056.png
.pn +1
With a capital of over two thousand
dollars I next appeared as Ah Fung,
messman to an American transport. The
Americans have lordly ideas as to the
cost of food, their officers are well paid,
and they reckon everything in gold, so
I easily made a small fortune after a few
years. I take it that it’s not surprising
that I know your language fairly well.
With some of my savings I purchased from
the local mandarin the position of chief
constable in the village ashore. I am now
diligently studying the classics, and at the
next public examination I shall present
myself as a candidate, and if successful
will undoubtedly with my capital be able
to obtain a position in the local government,
when by strict attention to business
I hope to rise to the rank of mandarin,
possibly to Viceroy. Who knows!”
“I thank you,” said the surgeon. “I
.bn 057.png
.pn +1
wish I could write stories, I should like to
publish yours.”
Then Fung Wa Chun went back to
his village to resume his studies of the
classics.
.bn 058.png
.pn +1
.bn 059.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.nf c
FENG SHUEY
.nf-
.sp 4
.bn 060.png
.pn +1
.bn 061.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch02
FENG SHUEY
.sp 2
.in 4
.fs 85%
Feng Shuey literally translated means wind-water,
and is a general term denoting the superstitious feeling
with regard to the topographical surroundings of cities or
houses, the good fortune or luck of a district being in proportion
to its propitious relations to mountains, rivers, etc.
.fs 100%
.in 0
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.65
HING FAI was angry and annoyed.
Many things had happened to produce
this condition of mind. To explain.
Hing Fai lived in the province of Fo
Kien or the “Consummation of Happiness,”
and was a merchant of considerable
respectability, his business being in hogs’
bristles and plaited rice straw.
Intelligent reader, you perhaps think
that neither of these articles interest you,
but you are wrong, they do; the insignificant
tooth-brush which you use on your
.bn 062.png
.pn +1
honourable molars is made of finest hogs’
bristles from China, and perchance the
hat you wear during your summer holiday
saw its birth as rice in the province of
Fo Kien.
All the hot morning that persistent
beggar Wang had moaned and groaned
in the dusty road opposite the business-house
of Hing Fai. For a long time
Wang had been an annoyance to all
decent merchants and wealthy persons,
and to-day he had hit on an admirable
plan for gathering “cash.” Early he had
stationed himself opposite the office of
Hing Fai, and had brought with him a
large stone. The stone he had placed in
the dusty road, and with great persistence
continued to beat his inadequately shaved
head on it. It was now well after noon.
Wang’s groans had disturbed Hing Fai
for the last four hours, and the stone and
.bn 063.png
.pn +1
Wang’s head were both liberally spattered
with blood. Wang continued to groan
and beat his head on the stone, and there
was every reason to suppose that if he
continued this unpleasant occupation he
would eventually fracture his skull and
die in front of the honourable door of
Hing Fai’s business-house.
A junk laden with bristles belonging to
Hing Fai had sunk in the river this morning,
and recently a go-down belonging to
him had been burnt down with its contents
of several tons of straw braid.
These two misfortunes meant the loss of
hundreds of taels, and now added to all
these misfortunes were the groans and
blood sprinklings of the despicable Wang.
Hing Fai was justly angered. He threw
his rabbit-hair pen across the room, closed
his paper ledgers in anger, and strode to
the door and out into the dusty road,
.bn 064.png
.pn +1
where he bestowed three kicks and five
cash on the despicable Wang, after which
he was carried in his chair by three sweating
coolies to his residence on the outside
of the town.
The bestowal of the cash and the departure
of Hing Fai had the effect of
causing the despised Wang to cease his
melancholy self-torture. He abandoned
his stone, wiped the clotted blood from
his head, and with the five cash proceeded
to a cheap eating-house to regale himself
on rice. Wang’s profession of beggar
made him conversant with many of the
affairs of his townsmen, so he was
acquainted with the recent losses sustained
by Hing Fai. Having eaten his
fill of rice, he washed his head free of
blood in the neighbouring stream and
betook himself to the pleasant abode of
Hing Fai, where he accosted the gate-keeper
.bn 065.png
.pn +1
in suitable terms: “Most honourable
keeper of the gate, this degraded
and unspeakably insignificant person has
matters of importance to reveal to the
most exalted and charitable Hing Fai.”
The gate-keeper replied that the air of
the immediate neighbourhood was already
sufficiently tainted, but that the presence
of the disgusting Wang rendered it almost
unbearable. Wang replied that he was
well aware that the unspeakable odours
that emanated from his degraded self must
necessarily be unpleasant to such an exalted
and gently born person as the gate-keeper,
but that should admission be
refused him he would bring ten thousand
more worse smelling beggars to the gate,
and that they would remain there and
clamour for admission for one hundred
years. After a protracted conversation
carried on in similar polite terms the
.bn 066.png
.pn +1
truculent gate-keeper admitted the impecunious
Wang to Hing Fai’s compound.
Wang advanced towards the house, walking
at the side of the path, and carefully
avoiding any desecration of the honourable
brick-laid pathway by his own low-born
feet.
Arriving at the door of the house he
did not presume to call one of the house-servants,
but knelt on the pathway of
narrow bricks and rhythmically beat his
head on them, from time to time uttering
almost inaudible groans. Two or three of
Hing Fai’s servants idly observed these
actions, and as the blood began to stream
from the wretched Wang’s head one of the
servants ventured to inform Hing Fai that
there was a miserable person without who
evidently begged an audience. Hing Fai
had dined, he was now smoking a cigar
and sipping sweet champagne, and felt
.bn 067.png
.pn +1
more at peace with the world, so he signified
his willingness to have speech with
the beggar, for he argued that the man’s
persistence in attracting attention might
mean that he had something of importance
to communicate. Wang’s obeisances
having been deemed sufficiently servile,
the honourable Hing Fai commanded him
to speak, at the same time hinting that
should the beggar’s communication be considered
so unimportant as to not warrant
his thrusting his objectionable presence
on the honourable Hing Fai, one hundred
blows on the bare feet would seem but
a mild reproof. Wang humbly kneeling
with his forehead on the floor spoke as
follows:—
“It has come to the knowledge of this
altogether insignificant person that recently
certain severe pecuniary losses have happened
to the honourable Hing Fai.” Any
.bn 068.png
.pn +1
annoyance that Hing Fai may have felt at
this speech he carefully concealed, and the
beggar continued: “Has it never occurred
to the far-seeing Hing Fai what may be
the cause of this growing ill-luck? Is
there in Fo Kien a more charming and
beautiful residence than that the life-restoring
air of which this entirely despicable
person at present dares to breathe?
Let the honourable Hing Fai look round,
and his heaven-sent intellect will at once
see wherein lies the secret of his misfortunes.”
Hing Fai was now really angry. Fixing
a stern gaze on the loathsome
Wang, he commanded him to speak more
plainly, or—and Hing waved his arm suggestively.
Then Wang rose to his feet, pointed
through the open door across the beautiful
garden, and said—
.bn 069.png
.pn +1
“The foreign devil builds a high
temple.”
Hing Fai remained for some minutes
deep in thought and oblivious of the beggar;
then he ordered his servants to take
the man away and feed him. Wang’s appearance
as he left the presence still bore
the mark of abject humility, but inwardly he
exulted: he had sown the seeds of distrust,
which he hoped would eventually lead to
the sacking of the Mission Station and a fair
share of loot to himself. Hing Fai sank
into a deep reverie after the departure of
the beggar. He thought of the foreign
devils and of the religion they preached,
of which he had taken the trouble to make
some inquiries. He knew that the foreign
devils had a house near his compound, and
that the meanest and worst characters occasionally
attended their worship; but that
these people could possibly menace his
.bn 070.png
.pn +1
prosperity came to him as an astounding
idea, and one scarcely to be credited.
Hing Fai and the Rev. Arthur Jones
were both good men in their way—both
honest, and both hardworking; but one
was a Christian Welsh missionary and
the other a Chinese Buddhist merchant.
The Rev. Jones was small, near-sighted,
and very hardworking, and his wife resembled
him in these three particulars.
For some two years they had conducted
their mission and school near the house of
Hing Fai, and once the foreign devils had
become a familiar sight the heads of the
wealthier Chinese concerned themselves
little with the doings of the missionaries.
The Rev. Jones was now about to
accomplish one of his pet ambitions,
namely, to build a real church. So far,
divine worship had been conducted in the
school-house attached to the mission, but
.bn 071.png
.pn +1
the pastor’s honest work had at last been
recognised by the authorities at home, and
a small corrugated iron chapel had been
sent him in sections. This chapel was
now in course of construction, and the
devilish mind of Wang, the beggar, had
seized on its building as a chance to better
himself; and by him the first seeds of distrust
had been sown in the mind of Hing
Fai. All day Hing Fai remained deep in
thought, and even the blandishments of
the beautiful Mah Su, his wife, did little
to rouse him from his state of mental
depression.
The next day, Hing Fai, when going to
his business house in the town, observed
the grey iron building of the foreign devil.
As the horrid Wang had implied, the
structure was growing to an inordinate
height. It began to rear a sharp-pointed
tower above the house of Hing Fai—that
.bn 072.png
.pn +1
is to say, far higher than the roof of Hing
Fai’s residence, and so lofty that its pointed
spire intervened between Hing Fai’s residence
and the hills at the back of the
town.
Hing Fai certainly thought his good
fortune was likely to be seriously affected
by this building; but being a just man, he
was not anxious to hastily jump at a conclusion
and lay the blame of his recent
losses on the Mission Station. However,
that veiled hint of the beggar’s still stuck
in his mind, and on reaching his office he
found that one of his most trusted clerks
had absconded with some nine hundred
taels. The amount of money lost was
not excessive, but still it had an effect on
Hing Fai, considering his losses of the
previous day. Business was carried on as
usual for some days, and Hing Fai was
still undecided as to whether the foreign
.bn 073.png
.pn +1
joss-house was working him evil or not.
Still the corrugated iron edifice grew
under the Rev. Jones’ direction, and the
despicable Wang had for days lain hidden
from view, advancing no further theories.
By everyone in the town it was understood
that the missionaries had come for
their own good. No one was such a fool
as to think that these people worked for
nothing; but as workers they were entitled
to whatever they earned—that was only
justice. Now it occurred to Hing Fai that
possibly the foreigners were seeking to get
influence on their side; but how could it
possibly benefit them to injure his trade?
Hing Fai possessed the ordinary amount
of contempt for foreigners that all Chinese
have, but he decided to visit the Rev.
Jones and in a Chinese roundabout way
try to find out if he really intended to do
injury to his business. It would never
.bn 074.png
.pn +1
occur to a Chinaman to say, “Why do
you build so high a house? Do you intend
by so doing to overwhelm my house,
and so cause my downfall?” No, a Chinaman
would act differently.
Thus he called at the house of the
Rev. Jones and the proper salutations
were gone through. Hing Fai kindly
made inquiries as to the Rev. Jones’
reverend father, his grandfather, their
health, their ages, the age of the Rev.
Jones, his health, his business, and the
prospects of the rice crops. The Rev.
Jones had a good knowledge of the
vernacular, but he was completely mystified
as to the reason for this visit. Hing
Fai then talked of towns, of dwellings
and houses, and after much circumlocution
touched on the new building of the
mission.
“Why do you build this tall grey
.bn 075.png
.pn +1
metal building?” said Hing Fai, “and
for what purpose?”
“It is for a house of worship—in fact,
a small temple,” replied the Rev. Jones.
“And you are building a sharp-pointed
tower?”
“Yes; it is a spire,” replied the
missionary.
“Do you store valuables there, or is
it a place of refuge?” inquired the
Chinaman.
“No,” replied the missionary, “we use
it for no purpose.”
“But it costs money to build,” interjected
Hing Fai.
“Yes, but then it points to heaven and
leads men’s minds in that direction.”
Hing Fai was astonished. Here, thought
he, he had found a most complete liar.
A man who built a watch-tower (for some
purpose unknown), spent money on it, and
.bn 076.png
.pn +1
then said it was simply to point to heaven.
He could hardly restrain himself, but to
all appearances calm, he replied: “Points
to heaven! So does a man when he
walks, so does a tree, so does every blade
of grass, so do the hills, and so does
nearly everything on earth except worms
and snakes.” Hing Fai then left, more
deeply suspicious of the Christians than
ever. So these two parted, and each
worked in his own way. Now a period
of distress fell on the province of Fo
Kien; crops failed, continual drought prevented
the young rice growing, and then,
when the rains did come, and the young
rice was some six inches in height, floods
came and washed rice and fields and
everything away. Hing Fai’s business
grew worse and worse; the Rev. Jones’
spire continued to grow; and the hard
times drove many a starving coolie to
.bn 077.png
.pn +1
embrace Christianity so as to procure
some dole of rice for himself and family.
To Hing Fai it seemed that his own
gradual ruin was but keeping step with
the growing popularity of the mission-house.
With the famine came the pestilence,
and the district, in addition to being
impoverished, was attacked by cholera.
The river was now filled with blackened
and swollen corpses. The people were
too poor to buy coffins, so the dead
were wrapped in matting and thrown into
the river; sometimes three or four corpses
were made up into a bundle, rolled in a
mat, and thrown into the stream at one
time for the sake of economy. Rich as
well as poor were attacked, and the wife
of Hing Fai succumbed to the disease.
Hing Fai’s sorrow was great: his business
losses seemed as nothing beside the loss
of his beloved wife; and while in this
.bn 078.png
.pn +1
state of anger against fate came to him
the evil Wang.
Hing Fai was willing to accept his fate
as such, but Wang, the beggar, for his
own ends, wished to arouse Hing Fai’s
anger against the missionaries. The
beggar approached in the most abjectly
humble manner, and having been bidden
to speak, began thus: “Of the recent
severe loss of the honourable Hing Fai
this contemptible person will not speak,
but what of the foreign devils who have
built a tower to overlook this graceful
residence? Know! O honourable Hing
Fai, their wicked actions increase. They
have begun to compass your ruin, and
now they compass the ruin of the whole
neighbourhood. Both of them suffer from
bad eyes and find spectacles a necessity,
and now, behold! they are buying our
children, and for what purpose? Why,
.bn 079.png
.pn +1
to take their eyes out and heal their own
diseased vision by the application of
certain medicines cruelly concocted from
the eyes of our own innocents.”
Hing Fai signified that he did not
credit the suspicions of Wang, and curtly
dismissed him.
The truth was that the Rev. Jones in
this season of famine found that the poor
starving mothers were willing to sell him
their children to save them from starvation.
The missionary bought them, intending
to bring them up in the Christian
faith. Unfortunately most of the children
when bought were moribund, and the
Rev. Jones soon found that he was continually
employed as grave-digger for the
purpose of disposing of the pitiful corpses
of his tiny converts.
Owing to the famine, Hing Fai’s business
went from bad to worse, his pecuniary
.bn 080.png
.pn +1
losses were considerable, and he took to
brooding over his misfortunes, so that
the evil words of Wang soon took such
a hold of his mind that he began to
imagine that the Christians had bewitched
him by the erection of their
spire. Soon his hatred grew and grew,
he took stimulants to assuage his troubles
and promote sleep, but soon the idea
that the missionaries had exerted an evil
influence on the whole of his life became
paramount in his mind. Suspicion
now grew in the minds of all the neighbours
of the mission. The Rev. Jones’
compound had become full of graves; he
continued to purchase infants, and had
found it necessary to bury the baby
corpses outside his grounds. The accursed
Wang took on himself one night
to dig up one of the newly-buried babes.
The eyeballs had fallen in in the ordinary
.bn 081.png
.pn +1
course of decomposition, and this the
beggar showed to all and pointed out as
proof against the foreign devils. It was
obvious to all that the missionary and his
wife had bad eyes, as they wore spectacles,
and here was an explanation of their
purchase of babies, to take their healthy
eyes to make medicine to cure their own
diseased vision. The feeling became acute
in the district,—such inhuman monsters
must perish. The poor people, being
already rendered desperate by hunger,
were ready for any excess. Moreover,
Wang, in an impassioned speech, said
that their misfortunes, the famine even,
were all produced by the workings of the
foreign devils and the evil influence of
their tower. The people were frenzied,
mad, and made clamorous for blood by
this speech.
“We will go to the honourable Hing
.bn 082.png
.pn +1
Fai,” said Wang, “and get him to lead us
against our common enemy.”
The whole crowd, lusting and thirsting
for blood, surged to the house of Hing
Fai, calling on him as their deliverer.
Hing Fai was partly drunk, and in a state
of recklessness born of his misfortunes.
The clamour of the rabble had its effect,
and, arming himself with a sword, he led
the rabble against the mission-house with
shouts and the glare of many torches.
The gates of the mission compound
were closed, as the noise of the crowd
had already penetrated the mission, and
they feared the intrusion of disorderly
persons, imagining that some drunken
carousals had taken place in the neighbourhood.
The gate was soon broken down
by Hing Fai’s orders, and someone slew
the aged gate-keeper. The sight of blood
roused the lust of killing in the famished
.bn 083.png
.pn +1
and misery-stricken crowd; headed by
Hing Fai they rushed through the compound,
hacking and maiming the terror-stricken
Chinese servants, straight to
the missionaries’ house. The Rev. Jones
stood in the lighted doorway, his arms
upheld as though commanding silence;
but Hing Fai, blind with rage, rushed
forward and cut at his head with his
sword. The missionary fell, and was
kicked and clubbed into a shapeless mass
of flesh. Lamps were overturned, doors
dashed open, and upstairs was found Mrs.
Jones praying wildly and screaming with
fear; twenty knives were plunged into her
as she knelt, and the now frenzied rabble
hacked, smashed, and kicked everything
in the house, spreading a ghastly ruin
over all. Then arose a quick alarm of
fire. An overturned lamp in the hall had
set the wooden house in a blaze; the stairs
.bn 084.png
.pn +1
were already ignited, and the rush of the
rabble to descend caused them to fall. A
frightful scene now ensued: the house was
well alight, the stairs were gone, and a
leap from the upper landing meant leaping
into hell. Hither and thither the murderers
rushed, trying to find some means
of escape. Wang, the beggar, had already
rushed down the stair before it was destroyed
by the flames, but Hing Fai remained
above in an atmosphere already
becoming intolerable; he rushed to a window,
cutting down two or three in the way
with his sword, and leapt out. Others
remained and suffered an awful death in
the blazing house.
Hing Fai writhed and groaned in the
lurid light of the burning mission, and was
soon found by the beggar Wang. He had
broken a leg, and was carried on the back
of the evil-smelling Wang to his own
.bn 085.png
.pn +1
residence. The home authorities were
justly indignant, and demanded full reparation
from the Chinese Government, and
the Viceroy of the province was ordered
to investigate and punish the guilty parties.
The unfortunate Hing Fai with a broken
leg was painfully dragged to the execution
ground and there decapitated. A brand
new mission with a particularly fine stone
church and spire was built at the expense
of the already overtaxed and famine-stricken
community, and there reside a
yellow-haired Scotch missionary named
McTaggart with his wife.
They possess a zealous convert and most
efficient colporteur named Ah Wang. His
well-shaved head is covered with scars,
and the people say that formerly he was
a beggar, and used to secure the sympathies
of the benevolent by beating his
head on a stone.
.bn 086.png
.pn +1
The pleasant residence of the late Hing
Fai is now in ruins, it being considered
unfortunate to reside in any house overshadowed
by the lofty spire erected by the
foreign devils.
.bn 087.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.nf c
THE BACKSLIDING OF LAO
.nf-
.sp 4
.bn 088.png
.pn +1
.bn 089.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch03
THE BACKSLIDING OF LAO
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.65
NOW Lao Ng Tau was a civil mandarin
of the second grade, of a
noble ancestry, considerable learning, and
in addition he was tao-tai of Sung Ying
Fu and the surrounding district—which
means that he possessed, or held the power
of acquiring to himself, no inconsiderable
wealth. He was a travelled man, moreover,
and one possessing a broad mind,
and not over hide-bound with conservative
Chinese prejudice. On one of his visits
to the great capital, Peking, he had contracted
a marriage with the beautiful Mah
Su. Of the magnificent and costly presents
he had presented to her honourable parents
we will not speak, nor of the superb gifts
.bn 090.png
.pn +1
that he had also received, or of the
completely perfect manner in which the
etiquette of their marriage ceremony had
been conducted. Poems were written by
seventy-eight poets, many of whom were
held in considerable honour in the capital.
Many of these poems can possibly be purchased
in Peking to this day, so it is not
necessary for us to enter into details of
the rejoicings on this auspicious occasion.
Eighteen artists of undoubted skill and
pre-eminence had been engaged to portray
the dazzling brilliance of the marriage
cortège, but they all declared that the sun-like
effulgence of the scene had completely
blinded their ill-conditioned and degenerate
eyes to such an extent that they were
quite unable to depict any portion of the
picture with the degraded and low-class
pigments at their disposal. When justice
and due reward had been meted out to
.bn 091.png
.pn +1
the poets, painters, and musicians with
bowstring, hot oil, and bamboo rods,
according as their several productions
merited; the honourable Lao Ng Tau
journeyed with befitting escort to Sung
Ying Fu with the beautiful Mah Su
as his wife.
Mah Su was a Manchu lady, and in
addition to considerable beauty of face
possessed a remarkable vivacity and cheerfulness,
and had not had her feet bound in
her childhood. Lao Ng Tau loved his
wife dearly, was charmed with her wit
and accomplishments; and she was no
less pleased with her husband, and the
presents of pearls, gold, and jade that
he lavished upon her. So for two years
these two lived in the greatest serenity
at Sung Ying Fu. Mah Su’s lips were
the reddest and her teeth the whitest in
the world, and these latter were shown to
.bn 092.png
.pn +1
remarkable advantage when biting some
sweetmeat or fruit at the same time as
she chattered and laughed with her
husband. She possessed a very marked
penchant for nectarines, and having eaten
about half a coolie-load of these one day,
she was taken ill towards nightfall with
severe pains near the lower edge of her
embroidered jacket. Her husband was
distracted at the sight of his incomparable
wife rolling from side to side on her
honourable bed, and occasionally assuming
distressingly inelegant attitudes when a
more excruciating twinge caused her for
an instant to forget the refined deportment
so necessary in the wife of a mandarin
of Lao Ng Tau’s importance. The
greatly and properly distressed husband
saw at once the necessity of consulting
a doctor, but his honourable mind was undecided
whether to summon the foreign
.bn 093.png
.pn +1
missionary doctor or the wise and justly
reverenced Wing Fung.
In earlier days Lao Ng Tau had resided
in Hankow, and there had made great
friends with an Englishman, of whose
education and knowledge of the world he
held a very high opinion. When the question
of foreign missionaries arose in Lao’s
mind, he would always recall the words
of his old friend that “missionaries frequently
did as much good as harm.” This
thought rather inclined his acute mind
towards the seeking of advice from the
missionary doctor in Sung Ying Fu, but
then, what of the renowned Wing Fung?
When the cholera attacked the city of
Sung Ying, was it not Wing Fung who
lit small fires on the stomachs of those
affected, had he not even done so to the
meanest and most degraded of his patients,
even supplying the firewood from his own
.bn 094.png
.pn +1
store in some cases? Then, again, had
he not cured the honourable Ah Wong
of a most distressing and undignified skin
disease by administering pills cunningly
concocted of crabs’ eyes? Had not the
noble Phat Cheong been relieved of an
aggravating sprained ankle by rest and the
occasional swallowing of live lob-worms
soaked in honey? Again, had not the
honourable wife of Sung Yee Hoy been
restored to health after a careful diet of
the thumb nails of the bald-faced monkey?
Taking all things into consideration, Lao
decided on employing the renowned and
careful Wing Fung on this soul-moving
and entirely discomposing occasion. Herein
he was ill-advised, for had he consulted
the missionary doctor he would at the
least have secured a correct diagnosis,
for the beautiful Mah Su lay in great
agony, a high fever, and in an inelegant
.bn 095.png
.pn +1
attitude, with her right leg drawn up.
To be accurate, the peerless Mah Su
suffered from an acute attack of that,
to Western ideas, fashionable complaint,
appendicitis.
Thus the erudite Wing Fung, he entered
with many befitting and seemly obeisances.
He remarked that it ill became his own
vile person to profane the presence of the
exalted wife of Lao Ng Tau, and that
such meagre knowledge of the healing art
as he possessed was almost rendered void
by the august impressions created on his
dull intellect by the evidences of supreme
culture with which he found himself surrounded.
Lao listened to the doctor with impatience,
and having paid a compliment
to the doctor’s knowledge of the classics
with which his speech had been liberally
sprinkled, begged him to see his wife and
.bn 096.png
.pn +1
prescribe whatever might alleviate her
pain.
The doctor, having adjusted a pair of
brass-rimmed spectacles which magnified
about three hundred diameters, entered
the room occupied by Mah Su. Having
made a lengthy examination, he returned
to Lao, and explained that there were
two treatments possible. One consisted
of rushing the patient up and down the
room until she broke into a violent perspiration
and then throwing ice-cold water
over her, and the other consisted in maintaining
absolute quietude while the soles
of her feet were burnt with glowing charcoal.
Wing Fung explained that no true
decision could be arrived at until he had
carefully consulted the stars, that this
occupation would entail his own careful
study during the night, and that the cost
would amount to at least six taels. Lao
.bn 097.png
.pn +1
handed over the six taels, and Wing Fung
departed, leaving the never-to-be-replaced
Mah Su still in agony and Lao not less
distressed mentally.
The following morning Wing Fung reappeared.
He stated that he had consulted
the stars, and that from their reading
he had learnt that the most honourable
Mah Su had been invaded by a most
pestilential rat, that even now the rat
was gnawing at her vitals, and that an
additional ten taels would enable him so
to study the stars that he would discover
by what means the rat might be driven
from its hiding-place in the stomach of
the most honourable wife of the gracious
Lao Ng Tau.
Wing Fung received the ten taels and
again departed, reappearing the next day
somewhat dishevelled. We must understand
that the learned doctor had now
.bn 098.png
.pn +1
been some forty-eight hours without sleep—his
walk was jagged and uncertain, his
speech thick, and he had an unfortunate
habit of chuckling, and hiccoughs somewhat
marred his demands for fifteen more
taels to carry out his researches among
the stars.
Now Lao got angry. He said that
Wing Fung should conduct his researches
among the stars right there on the roof,
and he also ordered a coolie to see that
the renowned Wing Fung did not doze,
the coolie being supplied with a heavy and
useful bamboo rod.
Throughout the day Wing Fung was
kept awake with difficulty and the bamboo;
but when the night came and the
stars became visible, he almost fell asleep
in spite of the repeated blows rained on
his back by the attendant. At last Wing
Fung begged to see the honourable Lao.
.bn 099.png
.pn +1
He then explained that he was an outside
doctor, that he knew all about
things that one could see, but of the
internal arrangements of humanity he
was ignorant. He begged Lao to send
for a renowned doctor named Hao Suey,
who understood all such things; and
having given directions as to where
Hao Suey might be found, he begged
leave to go to sleep.
Lao replied that he was quite willing
that Wing Fung should sleep; and having
signed to the executioner, Wing Fung
slept—with his fathers.
Then Lao sent post haste for the renowned
Hao Suey. So much in earnest
was he, that Hao Suey was given twenty-four
blows on the feet and brought post
haste to the house of Lao in a sedan-chair
carried by four coolies.
On his arrival Hao Suey produced a
.bn 100.png
.pn +1
bad impression by being unable to walk,
and Lao’s displeasure was evinced by
ordering Hao to receive twenty-four blows
on such portion of his body that, in
addition to being unable to stand, he
was now rendered unable to sit. After
this encouragement, the renowned doctor
entered the presence of the distressed
Mah Su in a most reverent manner on
his hands and knees, that being the only
method of locomotion of which he was
capable.
Mah Su was now very ill, and the
wretched doctor remained as long in her
presence as he possibly could, fearing
further encouragement at the hands of the
distracted husband. At length a peremptory
order from Lao caused the doctor
to painfully grovel out of the room to the
mandarin’s presence. Here the unfortunate
Hao made another faux pas, for,
.bn 101.png
.pn +1
being ignorant of the fate of the learned
Wing Fung, and hoping to gain a respite
and ease his battered body, he requested
an advance of twenty taels to enable him
to consult the stars. Lao’s face showed
nothing of the anger boiling within him as
he ordered the attendants to remove the
doctor and send the executioner in. The
executioner, however, could not be found.
It appeared that after exercising his professional
skill on Wing Fung, he had gone
off to the widow to present his bill and
collect the money in person for services
rendered to the deceased shortly prior to
and during the latter’s last moments. The
executioner’s demands having met with
more success than he had expected, he
was led away by the exuberance of his
spirits to rather over-indulge in samshu,
so that on his return very late to the
Yamen, his condition was such that it was
.bn 102.png
.pn +1
hopeless to expect him to exercise his
office until he had slept off his libations.
This circumstance proved considerably
fortunate for Hao Suey, as during the
night the beautiful and high-born Mah
Su died.
Lao was thunderstruck at this awful
catastrophe. He took no further interest
in his affairs or the affairs of his country,
and after the first numbness at his loss
had worn off, he decided to write to the
“Son of Heaven,” petitioning permission
to retire from office.
However, before even the ink had been
rubbed upon the stone or the rabbit-hair
brush dipped in the dead-black, sweet-smelling
liquid known to barbarians as
“Indian ink,” other events happened to
prevent Lao from inditing his petition to
the ruler of the Middle Kingdom. In this
wise: The news of the death of the peerless
.bn 103.png
.pn +1
Mah Su had instantly spread through
Sung Ying Fu, and had furthermore been
noised through the surrounding districts
by itinerant merchants and travellers. As
a result of this, before Lao had had any
time to indulge his grief, he found dozens
of poor but sympathetic relations arriving
at his house with children, coolies, luggage,
mules, and much wailing and lamentation.
Lao, as befitted his station, suitably entertained
and housed all, with their servants
and cattle. Aunts, uncles, nephews, nieces,
cousins many times removed, all came
with their servants and hangers-on. Lao
was a rich man, and his house was large,
but it soon became necessary to hire other
extra apartments for his guests. In addition
to this, the house was rendered doubly
uncomfortable by the presence of numerous
professional mourners. All day and
night the house was filled with the squeaking
.bn 104.png
.pn +1
of fiddles, crying of mourners, howling
of relations’ babies, wrangling of relations’
coolies in the courtyards, and squealing of
relations’ ponies and mules. Between
looking after his unbidden guests, arranging
for suitable funeral ceremonies, and
indulging his own genuine grief at his
bereavement, Lao naturally neglected his
duties to the State.
At last the heavy lacquered coffin was
built, and all seemed ready for the interment
when the question of a suitable site
for the grave arose. Soothsayers were
called in to assist in the decision. The
wisest soothsayers that Sung Ying Fu and
district could supply were requisitioned.
They consulted the stars, ate eagerly of
everything in the house, but still failed to
come to any decision. As soon as one
would find a suitable hillside, another
would learn by the stars that that particular
.bn 105.png
.pn +1
site possessed a certain malign influence
on all of the house of Lao. These
procrastinations and disappointments were
admirably borne by the aunts, cousins,
cousins many times removed, and other
relations of Lao. With true Oriental self-sacrifice
they all said they were quite
indifferent as to how long they stayed with
the honourable Lao, provided everything
connected with the funeral was done
properly and in order. The hired mourners,
soothsayers, and others who were paid by
the day, also showed an admirable fortitude
under the circumstances, the universal
opinion being that no risks should be
taken, but that all should be done in
order and according to the decision that
would eventually be arrived at by a
due and careful study of the heavenly
omens.
These continued searchings for celestial
.bn 106.png
.pn +1
guidance in the choice of a burial-place,
and other duties in the matter of his unbidden
guests, so occupied the distracted
Lao’s mind, that many evil persons found
opportunities of practising their nefarious
callings in the district without let or hindrance
from the magistrate. The tao-tai’s
district surrounding the city of Sung
Ying became more and more lawless, until
the numerous bands of robbers that roamed
unchecked throughout the land became a
positive scandal.
At last, to the tao-tai’s unbounded
relief, a decision was arrived at by the
experts, who had eventually settled on the
propitious spot for the interment of the
all-too-soon deceased Mah Su. The funeral
preparations were, therefore, hurried forward,
and everything was prepared on the
most lavish and expensive scale. The relations
of all degrees of remoteness ordered
.bn 107.png
.pn +1
the most expensive robes at Lao’s expense,
and it really seemed as if Lao’s
troubles were about to end. The blue
sky, however, still held a bolt for the
unfortunate tao-tai. Just as everything
was complete, one of the most learned
of the soothsayers discovered that a propitious
day for the ceremony had not yet
been decided on. This terrible oversight
struck everyone, except possibly Lao, with
astonishing force. The aunts, uncles,
cousins, etc., were unanimous in their
praises of the astute savant who had
saved them from making what might have
proved an irremediable faux pas. Again
everyone was resigned to waiting until
the all-knowing stars should reveal their
decision.
The next crushing blow came, not from
heaven, but from the Viceroy, in the form
of a letter to the tao-tai. This admirably
.bn 108.png
.pn +1
worded screed set forth that it having
come to the ears of the most exalted Viceroy
that the country on which the honourable
Lao Ng Tau held jurisdiction was
in a very disturbed state owing to the
presence of certain lawless bands, which
bands plundered the subjects of the Son
of Heaven, the honourable Lao Ng Tau
was herewith ordered to suppress the same
and send the heads of their leaders to
Peking pour encourager les autres. The
order concluded with a mild suggestion
that the tao-tai’s own head might possibly
adorn a spike in the Imperial city should
the rebels not be suppressed within the
month.
With so much to worry him in his
private affairs, Lao was nearly distracted
by this order, but as an officer of the State
he realised that private grief must give
way to Imperial demands. So he hastened
.bn 109.png
.pn +1
to equip a military force to engage and
subdue the bands of robbers which now
formed such a menace to the peace of
Sung Ying Fu.
Starting with a gay band of troops,
armed with banners, umbrellas, matchlocks,
singing birds in cages, and other
deadly weapons affected by the Chinese
soldier, Lao proceeded against the rebels.
At the first brush with the enemy the tao-tai’s
glittering rabble deserted to a man
to the opposing force. Lao, after a gallant
resistance, was himself overpowered and
taken prisoner and carried by his captors
to the hills.
He learnt from his captors that during
his absence on this punitive expedition
his relations had held high revels in
his house, and were entertaining continuously
on a lavish scale, and that the
would-be star-gazers were so continually
.bn 110.png
.pn +1
in a state of intoxication that the discovery
of a lucky day on which to bury
Mah Su was likely to be indefinitely
postponed.
The news of Lao’s capture soon reached
the Viceroy, who at once informed the
Government, with the result that the
vermilion pencil issued an edict that Lao
Ng Tau, late tao-tai of Sung Ying Fu,
was to be beheaded, his head to be
forwarded to Peking, his property confiscated,
his house razed to the ground,
and the land on which it stood to be
ploughed up to a depth of two feet, and
that should his schoolmaster be still alive,
that that miserable individual should receive
one hundred blows with a bamboo.
The worst punishment of all, however,
was the final one, namely, that Lao’s
great-grandfather, dead some sixty years,
should be degraded from the rank of
.bn 111.png
.pn +1
mandarin of the first to mandarin of the
third class.
On receipt of this news Lao’s anger
was awful, and the chief of the robbers,
choosing this opportunity to request
him to become their chief and war on
Society, was at once met with a hearty
acceptance.
The news of Lao’s joining the robber
band was soon brought to the Viceroy’s
ears, and the latter in a short time fitted
out an expedition, headed by himself, to
destroy this recalcitrant tao-tai. In the
first, second, and third engagement Lao’s
rabble defeated the Viceroy’s troops at
every turn. Then the authorities at
Peking adopted different tactics. They
offered Lao supreme command of Imperial
troops, buttons, yellow jackets, two-eyed
peacocks’ feathers—all were offered him
if he would only come into the service
.bn 112.png
.pn +1
of the Supreme Ruler of the Middle
Kingdom.
But Lao had his own special vendetta
to occupy his mind. He mistrusted the
Government after the way they had
treated him, and preferred to be an
outlaw. The cousins, aunts, and very
distant relations, not to mention the
soothsayers, who had so long lived at
Lao’s expense, now began to get
frightened. Mah Su’s body was interred
forthwith, and a magnificent memorial
archway was erected by the relations to
her memory.
But unfortunately Lao still remains an
outcast. He has killed nearly all his
relations and most of the soothsayers in
the neighbourhood of Sung Ying, but in
spite of frequent offers from the Son of
Heaven at Peking making him General
of the Imperial troops, Lao Ng Tau still
.bn 113.png
.pn +1
remains a bandit, because certain of his
cousins yet remain alive, and moreover
there is more than one soothsayer still
living in the vicinity of Sung Ying Fu.
.bn 114.png
.pn +1
.bn 115.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.nf c
THE PUNISHMENT OF HONG
.nf-
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.bn 116.png
.pn +1
.bn 117.png
.pn +1
.pb
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.h2 id=ch04
THE PUNISHMENT OF HONG
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.65
HONG, the massive, burly gate-keeper
of the British Consulate,
was a very familiar figure to all in the
settlement. In his wide, baggy, white
pantaloons, thick felt-soled shoes, white
wide-sleeved jacket with a red crown on
each arm, and white round hat with a
red silk fringe spreading over its conical
crown, he made a not unimposing figure.
His large healthy-looking face was
generally impassive, but he showed no
cringing servility in his honest gaze, and
one might occasionally catch a glimpse of
humour in his always polite but generally
inscrutable countenance. There were
times when the humorous eyes took on
.bn 118.png
.pn +1
a more pronounced twinkle, and when the
big honest face assumed the kind, protecting
mien of some faithful dog—this
was when he had children to talk to and
pester him. None knew him better than
the white children of the settlement, and
of these Jack, the eight-year-old son of
the Consul, and Dorothy, the five-yeared
daughter, were treated by the gigantic
Hong with a reverence and love almost
amounting to worship.
Dorothy, with her yellow curls and
wide blue eyes, was loved by everyone,
and Jack, with his brave boy’s ways,
could not fail to attract the notice of any
passing stranger. Passengers alighting
from the steamers always asked their
friends, “Whose are those beautiful children?”
To Jack, Hong always seemed to
possess some romantic mystery, and he
.bn 119.png
.pn +1
pictured him as having been a pirate, or,
perhaps, one of the redoubtable Tai
Pings. In the gate-house he always kept
a large sword, a weapon made either for
theatrical or processional purposes, but
round this weapon Master Jack had
woven volumes of romance, so much so
that he regarded the weapon as something
that it would be indelicate or inquisitive
for him to demand of Hong the
history.
Both Jack and Dorothy understood and
spoke the local dialect, but Hong was very
particular to make his morning salutations
in pidgin-English, and then, if any story
were forthcoming, it was told in the vernacular,
which, for the sake of our readers,
we will translate.
Thus Master Jack: “Morning, Hong;
blong velly hot, my tink.”
“Morning, Master Jack; morning, Missis
.bn 120.png
.pn +1
Dolothy. My tink plenty hot bymby.
This time no blong too hot.”
“Hong, you ever cachee torture?
Cachee bamboo beating, or so fashion
thing?” says Jack.
Hong’s face is almost lit up with a
smile, but with imperturbable gravity he
replies that he was once sentenced to a
painful death, and that part of the sentence
was carried out.
“Tell us at once,” says Jack; but
Dorothy pouts and says, “Hong, baby
no wanchee hollible stoly; s’pose you
speakee hollible ting, baby go away.”
Hong’s face became at once serious as
he says, “No, Missis, Hong no speakee
hollible stoly; s’pose like hear he tell stoly
of old time custom. No blong hollible.”
The wide-eyed Dorothy being reassured,
she and Jack sit on the bench by the
gate, while Hong relates as follows:—
.bn 121.png
.pn +1
“Many years ago, before either of your
honourable selves was born, this person
lived in Chin Wen Fu in Foh Kien. The
honourable Hop Li was tao-tai, and many
gentle and pleasant amusements could be
enjoyed in Chin Wen. The person who
tells this was very fond of visiting the
theatres, and, being a big strong youth,
would occasionally take part in trials of
strength in public places, and had, on
occasion, appeared on the public stage in
processions and such spectacles where a
big man was needed to represent an
emperor, a general, or some other person
of importance.
“Now it happened that at one time
a travelling company of actors came to
our town, and while the stage was being
erected one of their company fell sick and
died. They were going to perform a very
popular and amusing drama, in which
.bn 122.png
.pn +1
much depended on the performance of
one character, who, as tao-tai, becomes
very drunk, thus causing numerous complications.
After some considerable haggling
it was at last decided that this
person should play the part—my figure
and deportment were suitable, and as the
spoken words were not very numerous, I
was fit to take the part by the time the
performance was opened.
“Our tao-tai, Hop Li, was a short man,
but by putting cushions under my coat,
and a false moustache on my lip, I made
myself resemble him to the life. My first
appearance proved a great success, my
drunken scene evoking much merriment
from the audience, and the next night the
house was crammed. That night the
audience made me repeat the drunken
scene, and the next night they wanted it
three times. I began to get a little conceited,
.bn 123.png
.pn +1
and suggested to the manager that
I should be paid for my performance or I
would not play, and he, knowing that the
success of the play now entirely depended
upon me, and that my performances were
bringing him crowded houses every night,
assented. The audiences became more
and more enthusiastic over my drunken
scene, and I began to introduce innovations.
I had a horse brought on the
stage and mounted it in a fashion not
unlike our tao-tai, who was no rider and
very nervous. This brought the house
down, and things got to such a pitch that
the manager offered me many taels to
make my particular business last for three
hours. It was hard work, but I did it.
For three hours every night I acted that
I was drunk. I mounted horses, I gave
ridiculous judgments in the courts, I
fought, I dined—in fact, I did everything
.bn 124.png
.pn +1
I could to please. The fame of this performance
was so noised about that it came
to the ears of our own tao-tai, and he
decided to see the play himself—an unfortunate
thing for me.
“I think on the night of the tao-tai’s visit
to the theatre I surpassed myself. I was
more amusing than usual. I ordered new
horses, new witnesses, new prisoners. I
was three and three-quarter hours getting
drunk, and all the time the tao-tai watched
me. That night, I think, I had taken
especial care of my make-up, for I was
a life-like representation of Hop Li, and
the audience were like people possessed.
“Missis Dolly, the next morning was
tellible.
“The congratulations of my friends had
kept me up most of the night, and, when
in a very deep sleep, the next morning I
was roughly pulled off the ‘kang’ on
.bn 125.png
.pn +1
which I lay by two of the runners from
the tao-tai’s Yamen.
“I was not brought before the magistrate,
but was taken to a small room in
the Yamen and carefully guarded. I
could learn nothing from my gaolers
except that the tao-tai was very angry,
and that all theatrical performances had
been stopped. For seven days I was
kept closely guarded in that room, and
during the whole time I was well and
liberally fed; at the end of the period I
was brought before the tao-tai. In many
long-winded and high-sounding phrases he
pointed out what a disgustingly despicable
and mean person I was, that the mere
attempt to hold up to ridicule any of the
servants of the Son of Heaven was a
crime that could not be too severely dealt
with, that although I had signally failed in
this my attempt to ridicule a tao-tai, still,
.bn 126.png
.pn +1
as an example to others, my punishment
should be a severe one,—that I should be
trodden to death by countless feet.
“I was then taken back to my prison,
and, as before, continued to be well fed.
The same day the news came to me that
the tao-tai had ordered a theatre of extreme
magnificence to be built of bamboo
and matting, all the previous actors were
commanded to perform, an order was
issued that every able-bodied man, woman,
and child was to attend the performance,
which would take place on the seventh of
the seventh moon, and, finally, that their
magistrate, the tao-tai himself, would
perform the part in which I had previously
scored such a success. A further order
was issued the same evening that bare
feet or soft shoes were de rigueur for all
who attended the performance. I failed
to see how these matters could interest
.bn 127.png
.pn +1
me, and even when my gaolers told me
that the tao-tai was word perfect in his
part, and had introduced lots of new
‘business,’ I failed to show more than a
polite interest.
“As soon, however, as the day of the
performance dawned, I saw that the affair
was one of the deepest importance to me.
At daybreak my gaolers led me out to
the hard sandy plain on which the theatre
stood. The building itself was of enormous
proportions, with two fine dragons
fighting for a bright red sun on the roof.
The matting forming the front was brightly
painted, representing famous heroes of the
past; all round were booths with hot rice,
soups, pea-nuts, samshu, jellies, and sweetmeats
for sale.
“The unusual feature of this theatre was
that it had but one entrance, which was
approached by such a narrow passage that
.bn 128.png
.pn +1
it allowed of only one person passing at a
time. It was not long before I discovered
the reason for this. My guards took me to
the middle of this narrow passage, where
there were four stakes driven into the
earth, and then, making me lie on my back,
they lashed my ankles and wrists flat on
the ground. The play was to commence
at seven in the morning and continue until
nine at night, and soon after I had been
securely bound in position the would-be
spectators began to arrive. Their surprise
was great on finding that there was no
means of entering the theatre except by
walking on me, but they all made suitable
apologies, and I, in my turn, begged them
not to mention it, so that the first few
hundred passed over me fairly comfortably;
but as the time for the performance drew
near they came more thickly, apologies
were dispensed with, and I thought that
.bn 129.png
.pn +1
I should be surely killed. The majority
of them, it is true, tried to tread on my
chest, but some were old and blind, and
these trod on my face or anywhere, and
the suffocating dust nearly stifled me. I
was afraid to breathe, as if I relaxed my
chest I feared that my ribs would be
crushed in, and during the last four
minutes before the play began some twelve
hundred people rushed over my body. So
exhausted was I that I feared I should
die, but soon the guards came and revived
me with tea and rice. After that for
some hours I was entirely alone, and by
the continued laughter from the theatre,
I judged that the tao-tai was acquitting
himself well.
“As the sun mounted higher in the
heavens I had dozed off, but was suddenly
aroused by the honourable Hop Li himself.
He seemed annoyed that I was still alive,
.bn 130.png
.pn +1
and after delivering me a neat and carefully-worded
oration on my disgraceful
insubordination in still living after the
punishment I had undergone, he proceeded
to the booths outside where food of all
kinds could be purchased. He there bought
everything eatable and returned to the
theatre, where he announced from the
stage that there would be an interval of
seven minutes, during which time free
meals would be served at the stalls outside,
and at the resumption of the performance
he would repeat his drunken scene,
undertaking to make it last four hours,
and that in that time he would get
genuinely drunk as a special compliment
to the audience.
“The sympathies of the audience were
undoubtedly with me, but the prospect of
a free meal and the spectacle of their
tao-tai intoxicated were so alluring that
.bn 131.png
.pn +1
the finer feelings of my fellow-townsmen
were for the moment blunted. Out they
came helter-skelter. It was no time for
apologies, food was at the other end, so
over my poor body rushed the entire
audience. It seemed only a few seconds
since the last feet pounded my unfortunate
body, when a gong sounded, and back
rushed everyone, their mouths stuffed with
roast duck, stewed pork, rice, melon seeds,
fish, ginger, prunes, hardbake, macaroni—in
fact, every eatable imaginable.
“I fainted. When I recovered it was
getting dusk, the theatre was still full, but
I ceased to take much interest. My guards
again gave me food, and at the conclusion
of the performance again the people passed
over my bruised body, but on this occasion
they did it quietly and without much discomfort
to the miserable being pegged
down in their pathway.
.bn 132.png
.pn +1
“Then came the tao-tai. He wished to
walk on me himself, but he was so drunk
that he was unable to do so, and I was
taken back to my prison in the Yamen
bruised and exhausted. I slept till late
the next day, and the tao-tai, who had
made himself a martyr to art in order to
personate a drunken man to perfection,
slept late too.
“He woke about noon feeling very ill,
but still burning with rage against my
insignificant self. His first act was to issue
an order that everyone should attend the
theatre at four o’clock that afternoon, and
the proclamation also stated that the most
honourable and universally-loved tao-tai
would occupy the stage for four hours,
that, in addition to mounting horses, he
would attempt to bestride a camel after
drinking sixteen bottles of samshu, besides
many diverting attempts to enter a sedan-chair
.bn 133.png
.pn +1
and a Pekin cart. In addition to
this he ordered a deep pit to be dug in
the narrow passage leading to the theatre,
free drinks to be dispensed during the
performance, and two of his most lusty
Yamen runners were stationed by the pit
with whips to assist the nervous in jumping
it. This miserable person was then
led out, and again pegged down just
beyond the pit, so that all who jumped
across must of necessity land on some
portion of his miserable body.
“All was ready, the actors were waiting
to appear, the audience stood on the far
side of the pit, and I, poor miserable man,
remained pegged down for all to jump on
me. The runners had their whips ready
to assist the nervous jumpers when the
tao-tai appeared. As principal actor
everything depended on him, but his
hatred for me determined him to take one
.bn 134.png
.pn +1
violent jump on my chest across the pit
to encourage the others. He was by that
time full of good wine, but he cautioned
the lictors not to use their whips in his
case, as he felt confident of clearing the
pit, and landing on my chest without any
stimulus. Waving back the common herd,
he made a generous run but misjudged the
distance, and taking a stupendous jump, he
fell in the pit, where he lay unconscious.
“His attendants quickly dragged him
out, and he was found to be unconscious and
also with a broken leg. Everyone at once
showed the deepest concern, and the tao-tai
was carried in a chair to his Yamen.
The consternation at this catastrophe was
so great that some of my friends were able
to release me, and so I left Chin Wen for
ever.”
“I suppose you then became pylong?”
said Master Jack.
.bn 135.png
.pn +1
Hong looked suggestively at the big
hoop-iron sword in the gate-house, and
Jack, feeling that he was treading on holy
ground, was silent.
“My tankee you velly much,” said
Dorothy; “that no belong hollible stoly,
Hong.”
And Hong smiled inwardly.
.bn 136.png
.pn +1
.bn 137.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.nf c
BONE OF MY BONE
.nf-
.sp 4
.bn 138.png
.pn +1
.bn 139.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch05
BONE OF MY BONE
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.65
THE amah had caught Dorothy and
hauled her away to be washed, seeing
which, Master Jack quickly made his
escape from the verandah to the garden,
and through the hot scent-laden evening
air to the gate-house, where stood his
chum Hong leaning at the door smoking
a rank native cigarette rolled in an elongated
cone of buff-coloured paper. Hong’s
wife had just finished piously burning
“joss papers,” and as she gazed at the
last remaining sparks and light charred
cinders that floated upwards in the still
air, she stuck a few incense sticks in the
crevices of the brick pavement before the
.bn 140.png
.pn +1
door, and retired to the house to continue
her unending household industries.
Hong’s placid face beamed at the approach
of his master’s son, and setting a
low bamboo stool he begged Jack to be
seated.
“Tell us a story, Hong. Tell us what
you did after you escaped. Did you then
go and fight?”
“Not at once, Excellency,” replied
Hong, squatting on his heels and knocking
the ash off his cigarette. “After I ran
away from Chin Wen Fu, having been
released by my friends from the ropes and
pegs that bound me down, I travelled fast
without resting, in order to put as great a
distance between my miserable, insignificant
self and the far-reaching and all-powerful
tao-tai as possible. I was, however,
without money, and existed but
badly on the charity of strangers, and it
.bn 141.png
.pn +1
soon looked likely that I should die of
hunger, when by great good chance I fell
in with the theatrical company in which
I had performed, they also having fled
hot-foot from Chin Wen Fu and the tao-tai’s
wrath. So I joined their company
and became an actor.”
“I should think that was good fun.
Father and mother acted here last winter—that
was splendid.”
“I have seen your honourable parents
act,” gravely replied Hong. “When the
ignorant scoff I have reproved them. The
actor’s life is a good one, although in my
country we receive no honour, being
accounted as the lowest of the low and
not being allowed to compete in the examinations;
but in your country your King
even honours actors, ennobling their ancestors
and giving them lands and titles.
Is it not so?”
.bn 142.png
.pn +1
Jack replied that it undoubtedly was so,
not knowing himself, but not wishing to
throw any doubt on Hong’s knowledge.
“Such actions show merit in a king, and
this insignificant person feels sure that the
Son of Heaven would be pleased to hear
of such pious acts being performed by
rulers beyond the Middle Kingdom.”
Jack looked rather bored at this digression,
so Hong hastened to continue.
“In this country the actor is never
certain of making money for any length
of time, and for quite a while my particular
troupe suffered great privations.
No one wanted stage plays just at that
time, and we wandered about, earning a
few cash here and there by juggling and
reciting, and I spent much time in learning
new parts.”
“I have read a story,” Jack interrupted,
“in which a clown describes his sorrows
.bn 143.png
.pn +1
at having to be funny on the stage while
his wife was dying at home, so I think an
actor’s life must often be a sad one.”
“No,” interposed Hong, “I think on
the whole it is a merry one. The clown
you speak of, if he were a true actor, forgot
his sorrows while on the stage, infinitely
more so than the merchant who
has troubles at home. The true actor
feels the part he is acting, whereas the
merchant is always himself.”
“Yes: but when you play sad parts do
you feel sad?”
“Undoubtedly while playing the part
one could cry, but afterwards one can
laugh, and there is always the feeling
that one has done it well if at the time the
sadness was really felt.”
“But what satisfaction does the man
who plays the wicked part feel?”
“He feels that he has gained the dis-approbation
.bn 144.png
.pn +1
of the audience. Their hisses
are as food and drink to him, he is
delighted, he has played his part, made
himself out horrible and to be despised
by the audience, and therefore feels proud
in having interpreted the author’s meaning
properly.”
“I see, I see,” replied Master Jack, who
didn’t in the least understand Hong’s explanation,
“but what about the fighting?”
“Oh, the fighting! Yes, I remember.
Well, after travelling for many weeks and
earning but little money, we at length
reached the village of Three Bridges.
So it was called. Really it possessed but
one bridge, of which the inhabitants were
inordinately proud—so proud, in fact, that
they tried still further to impress strangers
by naming their village Three Bridges,
so that when the unknowing one had seen
and admired the one he might be led to
.bn 145.png
.pn +1
believe that two others equally fine existed.
When we arrived we found that serious
trouble existed between this village and
the neighbouring village called Ten Li
village, or Bad Roads. This other village
being so called because in it were several
inns, and whenever travellers arrived there
and, wishing to pursue their journey, inquired
how far it might be to the next
town, the invariable answer of the townsfolk
was that the nearest halting-place was
‘ten li’ distant, and if question was made
of the roads leading thither, the answer
would be invariably that they were bad—in
fact, almost impassable. These two
villages, Ten Li village and Three Bridges
village, really depended a good deal on
each other. Ten Li possessed valuable
clay pits, and Three Bridges manufactured
the clay into pottery and also
sent it away in boats down the river; so
.bn 146.png
.pn +1
really for their mutual good they should
have been friendly. However, at this
time war existed between them, and
continuous fights were taking place, in
which frequently people received grievous
wounds, even to the death in some cases.
The origin of the dispute had occurred
more or less by accident. The clay for
which Ten Li village was famous, and
which Three Bridges village depended
on for its pottery industry, was dug to
a depth of some eighteen feet outside the
village and near the main road. As the
clay was excavated deep pits were formed,
which eventually became deep pools of
water. As the demand for clay increased,
the road leading from Three Bridges to
Ten Li became greatly encroached on
by the excavators, and a climax was
reached when, the road having become
so narrowed by the clay-diggers, carts
.bn 147.png
.pn +1
were unable to pass. This resulted in
the precipitation of a cart from Three
Bridges, laden with manufactured pottery,
into a deep water hole. The spectators
of Ten Li, far from helping the unfortunate
merchant from Three Bridges, indulged
in unseemly hilarity at his misfortune,
which was serious enough to result in
the drowning of one mule and the loss
of a cart-load of pottery. The ill-feeling
generated by this incident led to reprisals,
until a state of warfare practically existed
between the two villages.
“Our suggestion to the inhabitants of
Three Bridges that we should give a dramatic
performance was met by them with
scorn and laughter. They said they were
already impoverished by stagnation of
trade and the necessity of carrying on
warfare with the barbarians in Ten Li.
They were willing to let our company
.bn 148.png
.pn +1
fight on their side, but could offer us no
hope of remuneration. Our case indeed
looked bad. We could not proceed further
on account of the local disturbances, there
was no money to be made by going back,
and it seemed that we should all starve,
when unexpectedly some Heaven-sent intellects
thought of arbitration. The wise
old men from each village met, they discussed
the loss of trade, money, and life
that these troubles were occasioning, and
at last decided that one more big fight
should take place, and that the winners
should have the honour of entertaining
the surviving losers at a big theatrical
performance, the performance to last three
days, the expenses of erecting the theatre
and supplying the guests with food being
borne by the victors. On hearing this
noble counsel we were naturally greatly
rejoiced, and now preparations for war on
.bn 149.png
.pn +1
a large scale were put in hand. All being
completed in a day, the next morning the
two villages entered into a most sanguinary
battle, which lasted eight hours. One
man was killed on each side, but the
umpires declared Three Bridges the winner,
because their man killed himself with
a jingal, whereas the Ten Li village man
was really killed by being thrust into a
mud-hole by the enemy.
“After this, all was bustle and excitement.
Land being valuable, our theatre
was soon erected on piles in mid-stream,
all our best dresses were taken out and
aired, and a play to last three days was
rehearsed day and night by us. For myself
I played the part of a famous warrior.
I wore gorgeous dresses of the Ming
Dynasty, with soles to my boots four
inches thick, whiskers eighteen inches
long, that I could blow straight out in
.bn 150.png
.pn +1
front of my face, and my face was painted
vermilion to show my importance.
“It was grand. The first day everything
passed off splendidly. I was in my
finest heroic vein. The second day I was
even better, and the third day I could
hardly be heard because of the applause
of the Three Bridges people and the
vituperations of the low scum from Ten Li
village. That night was a landmark in
my life. The villagers of Three Bridges
made me a hero; I was fêted everywhere
after the discomfited Ten Li folk had departed.
Undoubtedly everyone in Three
Bridges loved me as a brother, and everyone
in Ten Li wanted my blood. Our satisfaction
was, however, but short-lived; next
day Ten Li made violent war against us.
I say ‘us’ because I had now grown
to love the people of Three Bridges.
Jealousy had aroused the evil passions in
.bn 151.png
.pn +1
Ten Li, and Three Bridges was, I fear,
somewhat incapacitated from over-indulgence
the previous night. My friends
were defeated, Ten Li was victorious, and
they dragged our company away as their
prize, and, making their own terms, ordered
Three Bridges to attend a five
days’ performance at the expense of their
conquerors. And now another theatre
was built, this time over the clay pits, and
far more gorgeous in appearance than that
of Three Bridges. Rehearsals again occupied
our time, and my part was even
more heroic than previously. On this
occasion I became superhuman; not only
did I fight against fearful odds on earth,
but I ascended to the skies, and there did
battle against demons, foul dragons, and
numberless evil spirits, capable of every
transformation, all of whom I vanquished
eventually. My former friends and admirers
.bn 152.png
.pn +1
eyed these performances sullenly,
with rage in their hearts, whereas my
previous detractors extolled me to the
skies and gave me food and drink till
I nearly burst. Three Bridges had ruined
itself by war, theatre building, and paying
our fees, but Ten Li village must be in debt
for all eternity over our performance in
their town. This lavish display, far from
pleasing their guests, only tended to rouse
their most evil feelings, and by the end of
the third day of our play my former
friends of Three Bridges had become my
bitterest enemies. All their spite was
vented upon me, for, being the most important
actor, I secured the greater proportion
of praise from my backers and
the maximum of hatred from my enemies.
“The people of Three Bridges were
not to be despised as enemies, and after
the fifth day of our performance I was
.bn 153.png
.pn +1
suddenly brought down from my exalted
position as the idol of Ten Li by being
arrested by the village constable on a most
serious charge, no less than that of having
murdered my honourable father. Iron
fetters were put on my legs and arms, I
was thrust into a small strong room and
closely guarded, and from being the
popular idol of the people I suddenly
found myself the most despised and execrated
of persons. My erstwhile friends of
Three Bridges, maddened by jealousy
at my performing so well for the people
of Ten Li, had concocted a most cruel
scheme whereby I should be destroyed.
They had produced the skull and dry
bones of a certain person whom they
claimed to be my father; in the skull
there still stuck the remains of a rusty
knife thrust through the eye-socket. These
bones, they asserted, were found in my
.bn 154.png
.pn +1
father’s grave, and I alone having been
present at his demise, was proclaimed a
parricide. As a matter of fact my father
had died some two years previously in a
most pleasant manner, his final end being
caused by a fit, induced by an over-indulgence
in fat pork and wine. It is true
that I alone had been present when he
died, but the law required that it should
be further proven that those same bones
truly belonged to my parent and no other
man. While lying in prison awaiting trial,
Lung Fook, the juggler and conjurer of
our troupe, came to visit me. Having
politely inquired after my health and
appetite he said:—
“‘This matter, O brother, is most un-mirth-provoking.
You will surely suffer
the full penalty of a parricide, which is
none other than “Ling Chi” or death by
a thousand cuts. Let me be in all things
.bn 155.png
.pn +1
your friend. Now it seems to me that
you have much money owing you for
your performances. It would be but seemly
that you should make some will, and
whom can you think of more worthy to
receive the wealth you no longer desire
than I, Lung Fook, your in-every-way
bosom friend!’
“I saw the force of Lung Fook’s argument,
and told him so, but begged him to
explain further how the bones would be
proved to belong to my honourable parent.
“‘It is a simple matter,’ replied the
juggler. ‘The bones are old and dry,
and the test will be by the close affinity
of blood for blood. Thus you will be
made to gnaw your finger until the blood
flows, the blood will then drop on the
bones, and if it sinks in, then, indeed, the
bones are those of your father; should,
however, the blood not soak in, but remain
.bn 156.png
.pn +1
on the surface of the bones, then they are
those of a stranger and of no one having
any blood-tie with you whatever. Alas!
the bones are very dry, and I know any
blood will sink into them.’
“‘But,’ I replied, ‘surely this is a very
cruel punishment. Come, O friend, find
some means of escape for me.’
“‘Indeed! there is none that I know of.
Our laws are indeed just, but I think they
do not err on the side of severity.’
“‘It seems to me they do,’ I replied,
‘for not only shall I suffer death by a
thousand cuts, but my heirs, if over the
age of fourteen, have all to suffer death
by decapitation, and, alas! dear brother, I
have made you my heir.’
“‘Our laws may be severe, perhaps,’
replied he, ‘but surely they are not vindictive,
and under the circumstances I decline
to receive the legacy.’
.bn 157.png
.pn +1
“‘That, poor brother, is I fear unavailing,
for the intimate friends of a parricide
suffer death by strangulation, and all know
how dear you have been to me. Yes,’ I
concluded, ‘I think, after all, perhaps the
punishment is a just one for such an evil
person as one who would kill his father,
and my death will be all the more bitter
to me, knowing that you, my friend, must
also suffer with me.’
“At these my words Lung Fook was
greatly moved. His anxiety to have me
proved innocent became beautiful to witness.
He raved against our national penal
code, he wept for the tortures I was soon
to suffer, and begged and implored me to
think of some means whereby the law
might be circumvented. I pointed out
that the laws were just, that they did
not err on the side of severity, and I also
discoursed at some length on the painlessness
.bn 158.png
.pn +1
of death by strangulation, provided
always that the executioner were a man of
experience. I recalled to mind that the
executioner of Ten Li was but a youth
and somewhat slow-witted, but I trusted
that the bystanders would be able to give
him helpful advice and suggestions when
occasion might arise. Lung Fook now
became quite upset, and offered me many
taels of silver if I could devise some plan
whereby my innocence might be proved.
In the tenderest manner I bade him farewell
that day and begged him to come
next day when I might have thought of
some scheme. In the meanwhile I begged
him to sleep well, to avoid all worry, and
to be certain to bring me money next day.
“Next morning he reappeared greatly
agitated, and was much relieved when
I told him I had hopes of successfully
proving that the bones did not belong to
.bn 159.png
.pn +1
my parent. First, however, I begged him
to hand over the money, which he did with
some reluctance.
“My plan was this. Lung Fook had one
juggling trick in which he put a small boy
in a basket and apparently killed him with
a sword, anyway blood flowed freely
during the performance. I told Lung
Fook that he must teach me how to produce
this blood and also make it of such
a nature that it would not soak into dry
bones. He seemed much relieved and
departed, having two days in which to
experiment and find a blood-like fluid
which would not soak in.
“After a day’s absence he returned with
a rabbit’s bladder filled with a red fluid. He
explained that he had mixed his ordinary
fluid used in conjuring tricks with lacquer,
that he had tested it on several dry bones,
that it absolutely refused to soak in, and
.bn 160.png
.pn +1
so he regarded my life, and incidentally
his own, as safe.
“When the trial came on I was led in
chains before the magistrate, and innumerable
witnesses from Chin Wen Fu testified
to the notoriously evil life that I had
always lived. Therein I saw the hand
of my old enemy the tao-tai, who having
heard of my arrest was only too anxious
to again get me into his clutches. However,
all these witnesses were of no real
importance, the great thing was to prove
that the bones really belonged to my
father. So at length I was taken to a
table on which the skull and many other
relics rested, and was ordered to bite my
thumb until the blood flowed. The bladder
containing the liquid was carefully concealed
in my hand, and as I pretended to
gnaw my flesh I gradually squeezed out a
few drops. Soon my hand appeared to be
.bn 161.png
.pn +1
covered with blood, and slowly the drops
fell on the bones. Not a particle would
soak in. All eyes were eagerly watching,
but soon it was evident that I was innocent.
My enemies were furious, my friends relieved,
and the magistrate had nothing
further to do than to acquit me and proclaim
me entirely innocent.
“However, thinking my life unsafe, I
thought it better to leave Ten Li village
at once; so I once more started as an
outcast and wandered alone till——”
The sound of wheels cut short Hong’s
story, and as the Consul swings through
the gates in a dog-cart a small figure can
be seen fleeing across the lighted verandah.
The amah’s shrill scolding is cut short by
two chubby arms being flung round her
neck, and any further remarks of hers are
smothered by a small boy’s kisses showered
on her ugly old parchment-like face.
.bn 162.png
.pn +1
Before going to sleep Jack tells Dorothy
in confidence that he thinks Hong’s next
story must be about real fighting, as he
has heard up to the point when he gives
up being an actor for ever.
.bn 163.png
.pn +1
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THE MELANCHOLY MAGISTRATE OF FOH LIN
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.bn 165.png
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.pb
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.h2 id=ch06
THE MELANCHOLY MAGISTRATE OF FOH LIN
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.65
THE new “chow” puppy certainly
possessed a sense of humour. He
was very funny just now, and appeared to
know it, and the more his efforts were
rewarded by laughter the more he strove
to satisfy his audience. He resembled a
diminutive square black bear, his small
tail curled so tightly on his back that it
appeared to be almost lifting his hind feet
off the ground, and his front legs seemed
to be so set on his body that he would of
necessity tumble on his nose should he
essay to travel rapidly. His beady eyes,
like animated boot buttons, seemed brimful
of merriment, and his final effort at
.bn 166.png
.pn +1
carrying an old shoe in his mouth across
the compound had reduced Jack and
Dorothy to a state of helplessness from
laughter. Hong, the gate-keeper, stood
by enjoying the scene and laughing inwardly.
He possessed the trait common
to most Chinamen of being intensely
amused without showing any outward sign,
and although possessed of an enormous
appreciation of humour, he was seldom
seen to smile, and never known to laugh.
“What for you never laugh?” demanded
Jack, turning suddenly on the burly
servant. “Isn’t that funny enough for
you?” pointing to the puppy.
“It is funny, very funny indeed,”
replied Hong, “but, Excellency, this
person has learned not to laugh and has
learned it in a hard school.”
“Come, tell us about it,” orders the
youngster; and the two children are soon
.bn 167.png
.pn +1
seated near Hong, Dorothy cuddling the
new puppy and looking up in the huge
Chinaman’s face with big questioning
eyes.
“It is hardly a story, Excellencies,”
begins Hong, “but such as it is this
person will tell it. After the trial at Ten
Li village I left the Brethren of the Pear
Orchard.”
“What’s that?” interrupts Jack.
“Brethren of the Pear Orchard, Excellency,
for so we style play-actors in our
country. In addition to the money given
me by the juggler, the good people of Ten
Li gave me quite a large sum, for I was
still the popular idol of a play-actor to
them. So once more I started on my
travels, and on this occasion in good
circumstance, having fine clothes, a white
mule to ride, a servant to carry my
baggage, and money in my pocket. Thus
.bn 168.png
.pn +1
with a light heart I set out from Ten Li,
trusting that fortune would continue to
smile on me, and give me employment
before my money should be exhausted.
We journeyed some sixteen li that day,
and arrived near nightfall at a fairly big
town. Here I engaged the guest-room in
the biggest inn and entertained royally.
It was a most pleasant evening that I
spent, for a rich man has no lack of friends,
provided he spend his money freely.
“I awoke late next morning, and found
to my dismay that my servant had robbed
me of all my money and had departed
with the mule. The landlord at once
clamoured for payment, and the little money
I still had remaining by me and the fairly
rich clothes in which I stood were just
sufficient to meet his demands, and left me
sufficient to purchase a blue cotton coat
and trousers and bamboo hat. From a
.bn 169.png
.pn +1
prosperous, well-dressed individual I was
in a few hours transformed into a penniless
out-of-work coolie. Pride, however, forbade
my returning to my friends in Ten
Li, where I should only meet with ridicule,
so having burnt papers before the image
of Lao Lang——”
“Lao Lang?” interrupts Jack.
“Yes, Excellency; he is the god of play-actors,
and as I had followed that calling
for some time, I thought he might interfere
on my behalf.”
“And did he?”
“Who knows? Perhaps he did. Anyway
this person will endeavour to show
what further fortune befell him.
“After this pious exercise I started
away from the town, taking a direction
the opposite to that by which I had
entered the town from Ten Li. Although
a strong man, I still found it not altogether
.bn 170.png
.pn +1
pleasant to march all day without anything
to eat, and I was greatly exhausted when,
near the hour of sunset, I came to the
banks of a large river. This was crossed
by a ferry, consisting of a large flat-bottomed
boat, dragged from side to side by
iron chains laid in the river-bed, and by
this means passengers, beasts, baggage,
and merchandise were conveyed from one
side to the other. Having no money with
which to pay my passage across, I sat
somewhat disconsolately on the bank and
debated with myself whether it were not
better to at once end my miserable existence
by drowning. Near me crouched
a huge gaunt man in tattered garments,
whose presence I had failed to notice,
owing to my self-absorption, until he
addressed me. My melancholy train of
thought was broken in upon by his
saying—
.bn 171.png
.pn +1
“‘Honourable stranger, it seems to me
that you contemplate suicide. Many
people attempt to pass over to their
ancestors in this river, but almost invariably
before drowning they wish to
be saved, and it is then that I come
in—in other words, I save them from
death, and moreover I will do the
same for you, for indeed I am sadly
in need of funds. So, fair sir, I beg of
you to do the deed speedily, for night
approaches.’
“I explained that I was indeed an
unhappy person, and at that very moment
had contemplated suicide, being absolutely
devoid of even a single ‘cash.’ At this
he altered his tone, and said that if I
were without money then I had his full
permission to drown, for that nothing put
him in a worse temper than to save people
who were unable to requite him for his
.bn 172.png
.pn +1
services. I liked the fellow for his
honesty, and begged him to explain
further. He then told me that his profession
was one of life-saver, that people
frequently fell into the water at the ferry,
that he was always at hand to pull them
out, and that by the gratitude of those he
thus saved he made a living, but that unfortunately
of late travellers were few; for
days no one had tried to cross the ferry,
and that should trade continue to be in its
present stagnant state he would surely
starve. His tale excited my sympathy.
Here was a fellow-creature in as sad a
case as myself, and for some time I sat by
him in silence, idly gazing at the muddy
stream, and seeing the blue-clothed people
returning by the stone-paved path at the
river’s side from their day’s work in the
fields. Suddenly an idea seized me. I
jumped up.
.bn 173.png
.pn +1
“‘Wait,’ said I to the sad man by the
ferry, ‘and you shall yet earn some money
by nightfall.’ With which I ran in apparent
great haste up the causeway by
the river bank. I kept on at my topmost
speed, and people made way for me on
the narrow pathway, but singling out the
better class of wayfarer, I apparently by
accident charged into them and hurled
them into the stream. On I kept, in spite
of the cries and execrations behind me.
My large bulk and strength forced all to
go into the water whom I deemed worthy
of being rescued, and so I continued until
quite exhausted and the darkness was
almost complete. I must have pushed
some eight or ten people into the river
by the time I stopped, and then, wishing
to rejoin my new friend, I too jumped in,
and was rapidly carried, with little effort,
towards the ferry. As I drew near the
.bn 174.png
.pn +1
spot, swimming just to keep afloat, I
heard wild shouts from the bank, and
almost at once I felt myself seized by
the collar, my head was thrust under the
water, I received several severe kicks in
the back, and when quite exhausted and
almost drowned I was dragged ashore,
and found that the person who had ill-used
me so severely was none other than
my friend the life-saver. His annoyance at
finding that it was me he had saved soon
gave way to feelings of gratitude for the
services I had rendered by supplying him
with material on which to exercise his
professional skill. Of the seven people
he had saved all had some money with
them, and the few who had escaped him
and had drowned he trusted possessed
nothing of value. So, greatly cheered,
we two retired to the village and dined
together in the inn, and over a bottle of
.bn 175.png
.pn +1
samshu that night we formed a compact
to be partners in saving life.
“Being a stranger in the neighbourhood,
it was for a few days easy for me to push
people off the tow-path, and we did a
good trade, but soon people became careful
and suspicious and would not walk
singly near the river-side. My partner
was a man of hasty temper, and his
manner became more and more disagreeable
towards me as trade became worse.
It became daily more and more difficult
to earn a living, and one night, my partner
having made some disparaging remarks
about the zeal with which I carried out
my part of our agreement, I determined
to make a desperate effort the next day
to supply him with subjects on which to
practise his professional skill. Warily I
trudged near the tow-path, but only the
most indigent dared to use it. I went
.bn 176.png
.pn +1
further afield, but could meet no one who
was unaccompanied. At last, desperate
and hungry, late in the afternoon, I struck
away from the river bank towards the foothills.
Some mile and a half from the river
I found a woodcutter. He fled from me,
but I rushed on and pounced upon him.
A sharp struggle ensued, no one was by
to help him, and his cries passed unheeded.
My strength soon overpowered
him, and I carried him screaming and
shouting to the deserted river bank, and
with a supreme effort hurled him into
the muddy current. Then, thoroughly exhausted,
I wearily made my way back to
the ferry. On arriving there I found my
partner in the most evil temper I had
ever seen him in; in fact, he was in such
a towering rage with me that he could
scarcely speak. He had saved the man,
but it appeared he was an indigent second
.bn 177.png
.pn +1
cousin of my partner, and so far from
being able to reward he had signified his
intention of remaining with and living on
his rescuer, arguing that the person who
had prolonged such an unhappy life as his
had incurred the responsibility of keeping
that life going, and that henceforth, if he
died of starvation, then his death would
lie at the door of his rescuer. I think
some unreasonably offensive remarks were
hurled at me on this occasion, both by
the rescuer and the rescued, so I left their
company and that night slept unfed and
uncovered in the fields.”
“But what’s all that got to do with
your never laughing?” says Jack.
“And I don’t believe that story,”
adds Dorothy. “You wouldn’t drown the
puppies the other day, so I’m certain you
never pushed people into a river.”
It was true. Hong, as a Buddhist, had
.bn 178.png
.pn +1
scruples about the taking of life, and had
recently failed to do away with certain
blind puppies that were considered superfluous
in the Consular household. If it
were possible for a Chinaman to look disconcerted,
then Hong would have looked
it at that moment, with the eyes of both
children fixed on him. His love for talking
to them and engaging their attention
had led him into spinning an endless yarn,
but now he was brought up suddenly with
a round turn.
“It is true, high-born one, this miserable
individual had forgotten; but wait,
and soon, Excellencies, you shall learn
how this despicable individual was taught
not to laugh. It being necessary for me
to live somehow, I tried to earn a few
cash by reciting passages from my plays
at any small village where I could gather
together an audience. I found that my
.bn 179.png
.pn +1
fine declamations of heroic parts met with
but little favour; but when I repeated
some of the ancient jests of our comedian
I met with some slighter success. It so
happened that one day, starving and
miserable, I stood on the cement threshing-floor
before the inn of a small village,
reciting the funniest jests I could remember,
in a melancholy voice, to a dull
and unappreciative audience of rustics,
when, unnoticed by me, a high official,
accompanied by his retinue, had ridden
up to the outskirts of the crowd. It
appeared that he listened to my merry
jibes, and at the same time carefully
scrutinised my miserable and utterly woe-begone
appearance, and when I had
finished my recital and collected what I
could from my audience he entered the
inn and summoned me to his presence
by one of his servants. On entering the
.bn 180.png
.pn +1
great man’s presence in the guest-room
of the inn, he informed me that it was
his pleasure to take me into his service,
that I was to attach myself to his train,
and that my duties would be made plain
to me later on. Being in sorry straits I
was willing to accept any fate, and so
journeyed with his retinue to Foh Lin,
of which town and district I found my
new master to be magistrate. Arrived
at his Yamen, I was given a room to
myself and a generous meal, of which I
stood greatly in need; after which I felt
once more a man, my old confidence in
myself returned, and when later a servant
entered and burst into uncontrollable
laughter, I felt ready to join in his merriment
could I but learn the cause of it.
“‘Come,’ I said, ‘speak! Why this
outward seeming of internal merriment?’
“After several ineffectual attempts to
.bn 181.png
.pn +1
explain, he managed in the intervals of
laughter to tell me that to laugh was
the greatest privilege imaginable in that
Yamen. He then further explained that
the magistrate was a man who had never
experienced any of the emotions common
to ordinary mortals, that he was the most
amusing person himself; he knew no fear,
no sorrow, no pain, and had never been
known to laugh. The sound of merriment
was most objectionable to him, and
was invariably visited with the most
rigorous punishments in the case of anyone
who so far forgot himself as to laugh
in his magisterial presence. That he had
singled me out as fitted for his service
because I could apparently tell funny
stories and at the same time preserve a
countenance like a well-worn boot.
“I also learned from the fellow that
my new master was in every way most
.bn 182.png
.pn +1
excruciatingly funny himself, that his
retainers suffered agonies daily from
suppressed amusement at his humorous
remarks, and that to smile at them was
a grave offence, but to laugh was a crime
punishable by death. His latest jest had
been to build a superb summer-house in
his grounds, and when completed he had
taken his mother-in-law to see it. When
asked her opinion of the structure she
had, womanlike, offered criticisms and
suggested improvements. The magistrate
feigned to agree with her, and flattered
her into making a suggestion as to how
the building might be rendered perfect.
She thereupon suggested some sculpture
or figurehead in the centre of the roof as
a fitting rounding-off of the structure.
The magistrate concurred in her opinion
with enthusiasm, and suggested her own
head as a suitable finish-off of the concern.
.bn 183.png
.pn +1
In vain his mother-in-law protested that
she possessed insufficient beauty for such
an honour, and suggested her daughter’s
head—his wife’s—as being eminently more
suitable. He carefully argued the matter
out with her, and so wittily withal that
she shook with uncontrollable merriment
till the moment the executioner’s sword
curtailed her giggles.
“In spite of these stories I slept well,
and felt ready to meet my new master
the next morning with a befittingly lugubrious
exterior. Everything passed off
well at the first interview, the extreme
thinness of my face and my general
starved condition making a picture sufficiently
unmirthful in the magistrate’s eyes;
but as my condition under good living
improved, so I found my powers as an
actor more and more taxed to maintain
my gravity in my master’s presence. I
.bn 184.png
.pn +1
would lie awake all night screaming with
laughter, hoping thereby to relieve my
feelings of the strain caused by the
previous day’s gravity. My master never
seemed at a loss for a witty remark
or humorous suggestion, and these were
always delivered with a Buddha-like impassivity
that rendered them the more
ridiculous. One after another of his
servants I saw degraded for levity, until
I stood first in his favour; however, I
knew the strain would prove too great
for me, my face used to feel like scorched
parchment, my eyes burnt like hot cinders,
and often I feared to choke, and tears
would stream down my face from the
enormous efforts I made not to offend.
I also became very popular with the other
servants, frequently saving them from disgrace
by stepping forward and drawing
the master’s attention upon myself and
.bn 185.png
.pn +1
from any unlucky one whose merriment
had got the better of his prudence. At
last I snapped under the strain, having
been made weak and nervous by many
sleepless nights of laughter. On the day
of my downfall the magistrate was in an
exceptionally happy vein. He had dispensed
justice for five hours, never repeating
a jest, and never failing to send
a criminal to the potter’s field who did
not leave the court convulsed with merriment.
It came suddenly on me without
warning, falling like a fit of madness, the
restraint of months running riot, my pent-up
emotions suddenly gave vent to themselves
in peals of maniacal laughter. I
rolled from side to side, now screaming
like a parrot, again whooping like a
child with the cough, hiccuping like any
drunkard, squealing like an unbroken
mule—every sound in the animal kingdom
.bn 186.png
.pn +1
I seemed to reproduce as I rolled on the
ground with streaming eyes before the
horrified magistrate. He alone remained
calm in the face of my shocking exhibition.
Having dwelt upon the disappointment
I had been to him he
condemned me to death, pointing out
that my ingratitude was the greater seeing
how I had been advanced by his
kindness, and having made a few quotations
from the precepts of Confucius, which
latter he rendered in rhyme, interlarded
with some excruciatingly funny puns, he
dismissed me, a limp, chuckling mass, from
his presence. I now felt certain that I
should end my days by a felon’s death,
but the relief was so great that I passed
the night in the greatest hilarity, enjoying
the company of my friends, and entertaining
them with a colossal farewell feast.
Merrily the wine bowl passed, until the
.bn 187.png
.pn +1
hour for the execution arrived, when I
was led in the best of spirits to the
potter’s field, and prepared to look my
last on this beautiful world.
“Soldiers were drawn up in a hollow
square, the executioner stood stripped to
the waist in the centre, and a little in
advance of the troops sat the melancholy
magistrate on a milk-white pony. The
world never looked brighter, as the early
morning sun shone on the bright uniforms,
glittering weapons, and gaudy banners of
the soldiery. As a special mark of favour
I was allowed to be unbound, and advancing
to the centre of the square, I politely
saluted the magistrate and thanked him
for all his past kindness. He, however,
replied with some apt jest, which again
aroused my mirth. Now, thought I, I will
have my fling. My wits were peculiarly
sharpened, and I turned to the executioner
.bn 188.png
.pn +1
and twitted him on his solemn
demeanour. The fellow answered me to
the best of his dull intellect, but as I
made my preparations in a leisurely
manner I soon had him hopelessly
trembling from a mixture of laughter
and fear at offending the great man.
Even the soldiers began to snigger at my
repartee and the executioner’s obvious
distress, when suddenly a change came
over me. Why should I die? What evil
had I done? A feeling of huge wrath
sprang up in me against this unfeeling
wretch who never smiled. With the madness
engendered by this reaction of feeling,
I dashed at the now helpless executioner,
wrenched the sword from his grasp, and
with a yell of a madman rushed towards
the crowd. The soldiers, cowards to a man,
drew back before my onslaught. Blinded
with fury I bounded towards the hated
.bn 189.png
.pn +1
tao-tai, seated calm as ever on his pony.
The sword was raised to strike, and in
another moment I should have killed the
callous fiend, when something in his face
arrested my arm in mid-air. Could it
be? Yes it was. He smiled, the smile
broadened, and the melancholy magistrate
of Foh Lin broke into peals of merriment.
I stared like a fool, and let the
sword drop, the situation was unique. I
felt almost sorry for what I had done,
shocked, it seemed to me, that my idol too
had been shattered.
“When at last he spoke I listened with
bowed head. He, bending a look almost
of kindness upon me, addressed me thus—
“‘Brother, all my life I have never felt
any of the emotions common to men until
now, and now I have felt fear. Undoubtedly
you have just held my life in
your hands. This, the first emotion of my
.bn 190.png
.pn +1
life, felt so strange that I laughed at the
idea. I thank you for it, but you must
leave me. Should I ever again wish to
laugh you might be unable to afford me
that pleasure. So it were better for us
both that we parted. Fare you well,
brother.’
“Thus, Excellencies, I learned the
secret of gravity.”
“Is that all true, Hong?”
“High-born, I would have you ponder
this saying of the philosopher—‘A bad
liar is a better companion than a deaf
mute.’”
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THE HUNCHBACK’S PIETY
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THE HUNCHBACK’S PIETY
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THE people had long laboured and
groaned under the oppressive misrule
of Hang Ti, the local magistrate.
He was, without doubt, a bad ruler, a
man possessed of none of the tenderer
feelings of humanity, and one who ground
the faces of the poor for his own advancement.
Under his mal-administration
illegal taxes had been super-imposed on
salt, likin barriers established where none
should exist, the gaols were crowded with
those unfortunates who would not submit
to his further extortions, and the whole
land cried out for redress.
At last the long-suffering poor took
into their own hands the only means they
.bn 194.png
.pn +1
possessed of calling the “Son of Heaven’s”
attention to their pitiable condition. An
insurrection was fomented and quickly
blazed into serious rebellion. Villages
were sacked, whole districts laid waste,
and soon accounts of these doings reached
Peking. By swiftest messengers a mandate
signed with the “Vermilion Pencil”
was conveyed to Hang Ti, ordering him
to raise troops forthwith and to crush the
rebels, at the same time enjoining all
peacefully minded persons to abstain from
nervous excitability, but rather to pursue
the cultivation of all the virtues, more
especially those of thrift, energy, and the
study of the classics.
Hang Ti’s troops, with their pay long
in arrears, no stomach for the fight, and
most of them secretly in sympathy with
the rebels, were routed at the first engagement,
and then the whole province was
.bn 195.png
.pn +1
given up to bloodshed, rapine, and excesses
of every description.
A second Imperial Order soon followed
the first summoning Hang Ti to the
capital, whither he hastily repaired, having
first laid his hands on as much of his ill-gotten
wealth as he could conveniently
carry, hoping thereby to bribe the palace
underlings, and so mitigate in some
measure the punishment he deserved.
On his arrival in Peking he was not
permitted to enter his Imperial master’s
presence, but was presented by an official
with a handsome silk scarf, a polite hint
that he might hang himself and so save
his person the greater indignity of decapitation.
So Hang Ti passes out of
the story, and an energetic officer named
Yeh Lok reigned in his stead.
Yeh subdued the rebels with a firm
hand, and in three months the district,
.bn 196.png
.pn +1
although somewhat depopulated, was reported
to the “Son of Heaven” as being
“Happy, contented, and at peace.” Yeh
next turned his attention to the administration
of his district, and found that there
utter chaos reigned in every department.
The prisons were overcrowded to a disgraceful
extent, and the majority of the
unfortunate prisoners had not even any
crime registered against them. Yeh’s
heart bled for them: this shocking state
of affairs had to be at once remedied.
The idea of keeping people in prison for
indefinite periods without trial revolted
Yeh’s every sense of what was right and
just. He ordered them, therefore, to be
taken out in batches of forty and to be
beheaded. Forty each day till the gaols
were empty and cleared of all persons
wrongfully incarcerated.
.hr 20%
.bn 197.png
.pn +1
Lok Hing squatted in tattered blue
cotton garments behind a tin of pea-nuts
at the roadside; an old umbrella afforded
him a grateful shade from the blazing sun,
and his well-ventilated and roomy clothes
allowed of his scratching any portion of
himself with the least possible effort. He
was a man of no ambition, content to
earn a few cash by selling pea-nuts and
spend his life in a philosophical melancholy.
As he sat tapping the tin with an
elongated finger-nail and droning out a
mournful eulogy of his wares, To Tao,
the hunchback, passed.
To Tao by his infirmity was unfitted
for heavy manual labour, but his distorted
body seemed to be endowed with some
marvellous power of rendering natural
objects equally grotesque. No one for
hundreds of li around could produce small
trees in such fantastic shapes and weird
.bn 198.png
.pn +1
eccentricities of growth as he. Hence to
all outward appearances almost as poverty
stricken as Lok Hing, To Tao was
a man of some means, seeing that the
wealthy gentry were only too glad to
purchase the curious trees and shrubs
that resulted from his untiring care and
peculiar skill.
As To Tao passed, Lok Hing softly
sang: “Forty yesterday, forty the day
before, in all three hundred and sixty, and
now all are finished.”
“What does my brother mean?” asked
To Tao, whose close attention to the
cultivation of his plants had left him
ignorant of public affairs.
“Forty each day for nine days have
been beheaded, and now there remains
but one, whom my lord the magistrate
will have strangled this day.”
Then Lok Hing told the hunchback of
.bn 199.png
.pn +1
the one remaining prisoner, an old woman
whose crime no one knew. She had been
about forty years in prison, and had herself
forgotten why she had been placed
there, and that Yeh Lok had been so
moved at the recital of her wrongs that
he had vowed neither to eat nor drink
until justice had been done her by suitable
strangulation.
The hunchback heard the story without
any outward emotion, but his heart was
heavy within him. He alone knew the
old woman’s story. She was his mother.
His father had been a notable brigand,
and his mother had been seized by the
then tao-tai and held as a hostage till
the brigand should be caught or slain.
To Tao’s father, however, died a natural
death at a ripe old age, and now for some
years the hunchback had ministered to
the material comforts of his remaining
.bn 200.png
.pn +1
parent by sending her food and little
luxuries daily in the prison.
There was nothing more to be done
now, however, as already the procession
was approaching along the dusty road
with two stout coolies carrying the old
woman in a basket slung on a thick
bamboo pole.
Hastily purchasing some pea-nuts from
Lok Hing, the hunchback approached the
basket and handed them through its wide
meshes to his mother. The old dame
received the nuts gratefully, and continued
to munch them with evident enjoyment
until the final tightening of the string
round her neck rendered further deglutition
not only unnecessary but impossible.
The magistrates, officials, soldiers, and
rabble then returned to pursue their
several occupations or amusements, and
To Tao, with rage in his heart, also
.bn 201.png
.pn +1
departed to his house, where he had long
kept a handsome coffin with which to do
the last thing properly by his aged parent.
This action of To Tao in providing a
coffin for the aged prisoner was accounted
to him for righteousness, no one being
cognisant of the relationship that had
existed between the two.
In this way peace having been restored
and all internal affairs of State set running
smoothly, the new magistrate, who was
something of a Sybarite, began to turn
his attention to improvements in his
yamen, and to the surrounding of himself
with every luxury. He spent money
freely, employing hosts of builders, carpenters,
painters, and other workmen in
embellishing his house and grounds, and
in this way soon earned a certain popularity
as a beneficent magistrate. Yeh,
however, had unwittingly earned the undying
.bn 202.png
.pn +1
hatred of the hunchback, whose
filial piety would allow him to leave no
stone unturned in his endeavour to avenge
the—to his mind—illegal execution of his
aged mother. Having beautified the interior
of his yamen, the magistrate turned
his attention to the spacious grounds surrounding
his residence, and who more
able to provide fantastic rock-work, design
ornamental ponds, bridges, hills, and
valleys, and complete the whole scheme
with cunning dwarf trees and shrubs,
than the hunchback gardener, To Tao?
Accordingly, to his huge inward satisfaction,
the hunchback was commanded to
wait on the great man, and he failed in
no way to please the magistrate with his
original ideas and quaint suggestions. To
Tao’s manner was all that could be desired:
he grasped every idea of the magistrate
almost before it was expressed, and his
.bn 203.png
.pn +1
own politely suggested improvements so
entirely corresponded with Yeh’s wishes
that he completely won his employer’s
confidence. No tree in To Tao’s collection
was too valuable for Yeh, and
soon the grounds of the yamen, under
the magic of the hunchback’s witchery,
became a veritable paradise. When all
was completed Yeh insisted upon taking
the hunchback into his permanent service
as gardener-in-chief, and the cunning
fellow, after a suitable demur, accepted
the position in the magistrate’s household.
Thus the first step in his scheme of revenge
was accomplished.
The hunchback was the only servant in
the yamen engaged locally, the remainder
of Yeh’s retinue having followed their
master from a distant province where this
official had previously held sway. This
fact proved of the greatest value to To
.bn 204.png
.pn +1
Tao, for as he continued to ingratiate himself
with his master he was employed on
various other duties in addition to gardening,
and his local knowledge enabled
him to carry out every commission entrusted
to him with complete satisfaction
to his lord. The district having now
lapsed into a condition of uneventful
peace and a certain amount of commercial
prosperity, Yeh sought relaxation
in every luxury and some small amount
of dissipation. To Tao here again proved
most useful and trustworthy, and he took
good care to unobtrusively encourage his
master in what, at first, were mild extravagances,
but which with the insidious
help of To Tao soon developed into
vices.
The hunchback gardener, having now
completely won the confidence of his
master, made frequent journeys on his
.bn 205.png
.pn +1
behalf to the distant city of Canton, and
these journeys resulted in many cases of
sweet champagne finding their way to
Yeh’s yamen, to say nothing of dancing
and singing girls, troupes of entertainers
and acrobats, and the charming frail
beauties for which that city is so famous.
Indulgence seemed to only whet Yeh’s appetite,
and far from any feeling of satiety
he more and more relied on To Tao’s
resource and good taste in furnishing him
with the continual novelty and change that
now seemed necessary to the magistrate’s
very existence.
After every absence the magistrate
would insist on hearing all the gossip of
the great city, and the hunchback, with a
vivid imagination, never failed to interest
and amuse his master. Consequently
Yeh, in addition to receiving some new
beauty into his establishment, had the
.bn 206.png
.pn +1
pleasure of hearing of others from his
faithful servant, and of many new delights,
polite amusements, and gorgeous
scenes that the clever fellow professed to
have witnessed while away.
Yeh’s curiosity had for some time been
greatly piqued by hearing the praises of
one Su Sing, a beautiful girl residing in
the Flower Boats of Canton, and at length,
after a somewhat prolonged absence, the
hunchback was able to return to the yamen
with the much-desired charmer under his
protection. Yeh was entirely delighted
with her appearance, manners, and accomplishments,
and the same evening, after a
sumptuous meal, he was in the very best
humour for hearing an account of his
faithful messenger’s adventures.
To Tao being summoned found his
master reclining with one arm round the
new favourite, smoking a cigar and sipping
.bn 207.png
.pn +1
the sweetest of sweet champagne, the only
other person present being the female
attendant of the new beauty. Yeh ordered
the hunchback to speak freely, as the four
of them were safe from any interruption
or eaves-dropping, and so pleased was he
with his new inamorata that he was willing
to make her the confidante of all his affairs
and intrigues, even of his amours.
For at least an hour To Tao, who was
no mean raconteur, amused his audience
with accounts of his doings in the great
city, amusing anecdotes of important
persons, the latest gossip and scandals,
and even some account of the doings of
the outer barbarians, who were separated
from the Middle Kingdom by the seas.
“And there is one other strange thing
I have seen in Canton,” continued the
hunchback. “It is a method of detecting
leprosy sometimes practised by the
.bn 208.png
.pn +1
jeunesse dorée when visiting the Flower
Boats.”
To Tao was quick to notice the almost
imperceptible start given by Yeh at the
mention of this dreaded disease, and a
wild exultation filled his breast. Here at
last was a means to his hand whereby his
master should pay his debt in full for the
execution of the old woman.
“Tell us of it,” commanded Yeh, with
a forced gaiety; “it will perhaps amuse
us. These superstitions, however, bear
seldom any foundation of truth in them.”
“It is in this way, Excellency. The
suspected person and one or two others
known to be untainted are taken into a
dark room. Some spirit mixed with salt
is poured in a dish, a small piece of tow
is dropped in to act as a wick, and then
a light is applied. As your Excellency
knows, the light produced is of a bluish
.bn 209.png
.pn +1
green, and by this illumination the faces of
all healthy persons look deadly white, but
the face of the leper appears red as fire,
although he have no other sign of leprosy
visible to the most careful observer.”
“Come, come, we will test the efficacy
of this foolish old superstition,” cried the
magistrate.
The materials having been brought, the
four retired to a small unlighted apartment,
and To Tao ignited the spirit.
Eagerly Yeh scanned the faces round
him, now rendered ghastly by the green
light, when suddenly he noticed a look
of horror spread over the faces of the
two women. Su Sing burst into tears,
and her attendant threw herself on her
face on the floor. To Tao alone remained
unmoved.
“Speak! speak!” screamed the magistrate.
“What means this foolishness?”
.bn 210.png
.pn +1
With bowed head To Tao meekly responded:
“It is nothing, Excellency, the
girls are silly and frightened. Believe me,
it is nothing. The girls must most certainly
be low-born, or they would know
better how to behave in your august
presence.”
Yeh, however, was far from satisfied.
He summoned the attendants, ordered
lights to be brought, dismissed the girls,
and ordered To Tao to remain. The two
being left alone, with nervous haste Yeh
poured out a tumbler of champagne and
demanded an instant explanation of the
hunchback.
“Speak!” he said, “and the truth,
moreover, or it may be my unpleasant
duty to interrogate you under torture.”
To Tao begged his master to excuse
him, repeating that the whole affair was
due to the stupidity of the girls. Yeh
.bn 211.png
.pn +1
flew into a violent temper, and said that
if the hunchback did not instantly explain
the servants would be called in and To
Tao delivered to the inquisitor. Whereupon,
with downcast eyes, the trembling
servant said—
“Excellency, your face by the green
light was——”
“Was what?” thundered Yeh.
“Red,” faltered the shivering cripple.
Yeh staggered and looked like to fall
had not To Tao supported him. After
gulping down more champagne the magistrate
became somewhat more composed,
when he ordered the hunchback to leave
him till the morning. The exulting
servant retired well satisfied with the first
effects of his revenge.
Early next morning To Tao was
summoned to Yeh’s couch. The magistrate’s
appearance was ghastly, and he
.bn 212.png
.pn +1
seemed to have aged a decade since the
previous night.
“I will not live with this loathsome
disease in my blood,” he said. “All my
life the fear of contracting it has haunted
me, and now it has come. The foreign
devils, however, possess a wonderful
poison, and by that means I will die.
The poison is contained in a glass tube
fitted with a piston, and is taken by
pushing a needle under the skin. Death
by this means is most pleasant, I have
heard. You will go at once to Hong
Kong and procure these things, and during
your absence I will set my affairs in
order. Go!”
To Tao would have preferred to stop
and gloat over his enemy’s mental anguish,
but this pleasure was denied him. It
took him four days to journey to Hong
Kong; there he easily procured a hypodermic
.bn 213.png
.pn +1
syringe, but the obtaining of
morphia was a more difficult matter. It
took To Tao a further two days to make
the acquaintance of a hospital orderly
and bribe him to steal the required drug.
Then To Tao returned. The ten days
of his absence had been passed by Yeh
in a fever. He had ordered all his affairs,
given out that he was seriously ill (as
indeed he was), and had paid and dismissed
all his dancing-girls, courtesans,
and mountebanks.
The change in Yeh would have struck
To Tao as dreadful were it not as a
soothing balm to his revengeful spirit to
see how terribly his enemy had suffered.
Yeh was at once all eagerness for the
drug which To Tao, much as he would
have wished it, was unable to withhold.
And now Yeh had composed himself on
his couch, and To Tao alone silently
.bn 214.png
.pn +1
watched him with impassive face. Soon
the drug’s influence was felt, and a
delicious drowsiness came over the magistrate.
“Excellency, can you hear me? I
have much to say.”
“I can hear well, brother. All is
peace,” replied the magistrate.
“That is well,” continued the hunchback.
“Your life was pleasant before
this disease held you, was it not, my
lord?”
“Yes, very, very pleasant, but now I
would rather die than live a leper.
Before, life was sweet, but now, death
seems far preferable.”
“But you do not suffer from leprosy.”
Yeh started up and leant on his elbow.
“What do you mean?” he demanded,
almost thoroughly aroused.
“I mean,” responded To Tao, “that
.bn 215.png
.pn +1
Su Sing and her attendant were my
creatures and with me in a plot to kill
you. Many times I could have killed
you by poison, but I wished to make you
suffer first, and I think I have indeed
succeeded by persuading you that you
had contracted that loathsome disease.”
Yeh remained silent for a while, and To
Tao feared that he would sink into the
sleep of death. At last he dreamily
asked—
“Why did you wish me this ill?”
“Because you slew my mother, the old
prisoner in the gaol. She is now avenged.”
Again a silence. The drug was rapidly
gaining entire possession of Yeh’s brain.
Very slowly he spoke his last words.
“Brother, you did well. You acted as
a filial child should. I have a wife and
two sons in Szechuen. If my sons heard
of the manner of my death they would do
.bn 216.png
.pn +1
the same to you and more also. But they
will never know. I think, perhaps, it is
better they should not, for, indeed, you
are a marvellous gardener. Send my body
to Szechuen and now—now—I would—sleep——”
So Yeh the magistrate slept, To Tao
religiously carried out his dead master’s
last wishes, and then returned to his
gardens.
His fame as a producer of dwarf trees
spreads daily further and further afield,
which, coupled with his increasing prosperity,
point to rewards received for a
virtuous life.
.bn 217.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.nf c
HOO, THE DAUGHTER OF TAK WO
.nf-
.sp 4
.bn 218.png
.pn +1
.bn 219.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch08
HOO, THE DAUGHTER OF TAK WO
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.65
ON YICK’S residence was quite
charmingly situated in a narrow
gorge down which a small torrent ran, winter
and summer alike. This small stream
was turned to every use that the ingenious
and painstaking Chinaman so admirably accomplishes
invariably where running water
is present. This particular hill stream,
although not more than two miles in
extent, from its source where it bubbled
as a spring from the rocks some fifteen
hundred feet above sea-level to where it
joined the sea across the sandy beach of
the small village of Tai Kok, had been
trained and coaxed to turn three mill-wheels,
.bn 220.png
.pn +1
flood acres of paddy in irregular
curved mud-walled fields, varying in size
and shape from a table-cloth to a barrack
square, from a crescent to a hexagon,
after which it afforded nutriment and recreation
for numerous ducks, water for the
pine-apple fields on the hillsides and also
for cooking purposes, and possibly for washing,
to the peaceable inhabitants of Tai
Kok. This little nameless stream through
countless ages unostentatiously has continued
to benefit hundreds of our oblique-eyed
fellow-men in Southern China.
All the above was so familiar to On
Yick that possibly he had never given it
a thought. To-day, as he sat making
bamboo baskets outside his mill, his mind
was more occupied with thoughts of the
daughter of Tak Wo than with the economical
conservancy of streams. The
stranger approaching the hills up the
.bn 221.png
.pn +1
rock-strewn gorge was first aware of a
continual stamping noise; on a closer
approach the air became, in addition to
the noise, filled with an all-pervading
sweet odour of sandal-wood. Smells are
ubiquitous in China, but pleasant smells
are often painfully few and far between.
This smell, however, emanates directly
from On Yick’s abode. The mill-wheel
turned by the stream has its axle prolonged
on one side, and on this are projecting
pieces of wood, which, as the wheel
revolves, press down heavy wooden levers
which pass through the house wall. At
the further end of these levers are heavy
balks of timber, which rise and fall into a
stone trough in the mud floor. The trough
is filled with chips and odd pieces of
sandal-wood, the revolving wheel and consequent
stamping of the levers breaking
it to a fine powder, the smaller particles of
.bn 222.png
.pn +1
which float about in the air, and soon make
their presence felt in the nostrils of anyone
ascending from the village.
The powder when stamped to a sufficient
fineness is packed tight in palm
leaves, placed in bamboo baskets, and
shipped in junks from Tai Kok to the
nearest city or fu, where it is employed in
the manufacture of “joss-sticks,” so that
the fragrant smell may gladden the noses
of innumerable greasy idols and further
blacken the roofs of countless temples and
houses.
To-day the middleman of the village
had been despatched by On Yick to the
house of Tak Wo to make preliminary
talk with a view to a marriage being
arranged between On Yick, mill-owner,
and the daughter of Tak Wo, grass
merchant.
The meeting of On Yick and the
.bn 223.png
.pn +1
daughter of Tak Wo had been unconventional
but not unpremeditated as far
as the lady was concerned. It happened
in this way. One bright winter morning
Hoo, the daughter of Tak, had gone to
the hillside to cut grass, and it so happened
that On Yick sat outside his door
in the sun mending a grass sandal. He
sat clad in a pair of blue cotton pantaloons
only, his broad, sunburned back exposed
to the cheerful warmth of the sun, when
Hoo, passing behind him, could not resist
the temptation of picking up a frog and
throwing it at the handsome young miller.
Her aim was true, and the soft, bloated
creature struck On Yick just below the
shoulder-blades. Quickly turning round
he was greeted with a merry laugh and
the sight of the bare-footed Hoo scampering
away down the hillside.
From that moment the flame of love
.bn 224.png
.pn +1
was kindled in the bosom of On Yick.
The possession of Hoo, the daughter of
Tak Wo, became the one object of his
dreams. Cupid has many ways of assailing
men’s hearts, sometimes by the
pressure of a hand, the dropping of a
handkerchief, the tearing of a ball dress.
So why not by the hurling of a live frog
on a susceptible young man’s back?
Love must exist as long as human beings
tread this earth. So what matters it by
what incident it was first engendered in
each particular case!
The first day’s talking passed off satisfactorily,
and the go-between came to
On Yick’s mill the same evening and
reported that Tak Wo was inclined to
look with some favour on the proposition
of an alliance between On Yick and his
daughter. On was delighted, and having
liberally rewarded the go-between, retired
.bn 225.png
.pn +1
to his kang and soon fell into the happiest
of dreams, in all of which Hoo, a frog,
and a sandal-wood mill played important
parts.
The idea of getting Hoo comfortably
married was very pleasing to Tak Wo.
He was a widower, and his daughter,
although only sixteen, had repeatedly
given him much anxiety. We can judge
from the frog incident that Hoo sadly
lacked that becoming reserve expected
of a Chinese girl. Another instance of
her want of conventionality is shown by
the fact that she managed to conceal
herself and overhear the conversation
between her father and the go-between
with regard to her proposed marriage.
Unlike On, Hoo had given no further
thought to the frog and bare-back incident,
but on overhearing the long conversation
between her father and the
.bn 226.png
.pn +1
go-between, she conceived a most violently
passionate affection for On Yick.
Hoo was a girl of slightly unstable
mental equilibrium, and of this her father
was well aware from various unpleasant
and hard-to-be-tolerated jokes that had
been perpetrated at his expense by his
daughter. Hence the anxiety of Tak
Wo to rid himself of this daughter by
a suitable marriage.
The idea of love and marriage supplied
the just sufficient tilt to Hoo’s mental
balance to upset the proverbial apple-cart;
the result was that between romantic
fancies, love for On Yick, and a nearly
complete idleness, she became more or
less a monomaniac. Her every idea
centred on On Yick, but the small kink
in her brain prevented her from doing the
right thing at the right time.
The go-between and On Yick were
.bn 227.png
.pn +1
now much occupied in deciding a suitable
present to be sent to Tak Wo. Of
course it was understood that Tak Wo
would only retain a small portion of the
gifts sent; still it was necessary to make
as imposing a show as possible.
Eventually the coolies were hired and
entrusted with the presents for the prospective
father-in-law. These consisted
of half a young pig, split from his nose
to his tail, and varnished, two live geese,
two white fowls, many cakes, a jar of
preserved fruits, a thick bundle of incense
sticks, and two bottles of samshu.
Tak Wo was delighted. He selected
as many of the presents as were seemly
and returned the balance to the miller,
after rewarding the carriers with a few
cash. The versatile Hoo was away from
home when the presents arrived. Her
brain was so engrossed with thoughts of
.bn 228.png
.pn +1
her lover, and her desire to speak with
him had so carried her away, that she
had resolved on the unheard-of boldness
of despatching him a letter. Being unable
to write herself she had recourse to the
village scribe, and in order to pay him for
inditing the letter, she stole her father’s
long tobacco-pipe with the brass bowl and
jade mouthpiece. The letter was sent,
and Hoo returned home, where she found
her father good-tempered and smiling
but uncommunicative. Two empty bottles
near him may possibly have accounted for
his beaming but reticent condition. So
Hoo retired to sleep with her silly head
filled with the pleasantest and most romantic
dreams.
On Yick, on receipt of the letter, was
at once seized with a great impatience for
the advent of the go-between, as, being
unable to read, he desired that highly
.bn 229.png
.pn +1
educated person to convey the meaning
of the epistle to his illiterate self. The
go-between arrived, and already, from his
friend the scribe, was acquainted with the
contents of the letter which On Yick
thrust into his hands. Having adjusted
his brass-rimmed spectacles and cleared
his throat, the go-between read as follows:—
“O most honourable and dearly loved
one! This insignificant person fades away
for a sight of her lover’s form, for the
sound of his voice, for the clasp of his
arms. Come, come, my lord, your slave
awaits you at sundown between the third
house and the paved way. Come!
Come! Your handmaid faints and desires
you as the sailor desires the land,
as the beggar desires clothing, as the
famished desires rice.”
Although not particularly elegant in its
.bn 230.png
.pn +1
phrases, still this letter filled On Yick’s
breast with the liveliest sensations of love
and joy, and he watched the westering of
the sun with the greatest impatience.
Meanwhile affairs had proceeded in the
house of Tak Wo somewhat unsmoothly.
Tak Wo, in consequence of his previous
night’s libations, awoke somewhat late
and withal surly. For a considerable
time he searched about the house, and at
last addressed his daughter, demanding of
her the whereabouts of his pipe. Hoo
was thereupon obliged, at some length, to
explain that during the previous night she
had been awakened by a small but benevolent
dragon who, it appeared, lived
in the kang, or oven, on which Tak Wo
slept; that the dragon had requested her
to give him Tak Wo’s pipe; that she
had done so, thrusting the pipe into the
glowing embers of millet stalks in the
.bn 231.png
.pn +1
flue; and that the dragon appeared highly
pleased.
Tak was highly annoyed at this recital,
and left the house to seek some of his
cronies to obtain a much-desired smoke.
Finding congenial companions, and having
told them the news of his daughter’s
approaching marriage, he was suitably
entertained with tobacco and fiery spirits,
and so remained absent the whole day.
The love-sick Hoo’s directions to On
Yick had been somewhat indefinite, and
the latter, through an insufficient knowledge
of the topographical specialities of
the village of Tai Kok and the rapidly
falling darkness, took a wrong direction,
which resulted in a breaking of the lover’s
tryst. There were only three houses in
Tai Kok which stood on the sea-shore.
Having passed these the wayfarer either
passed inland to other houses of the
.bn 232.png
.pn +1
village, or continued his way along a
stone-flagged causeway which ran along
the coast. Inshore this causeway was
lined by a hedge of screw-pines, and
inside this again was a narrow pathway,
and then swamp between it and the remainder
of the village. Hoo’s intention
was to meet On Yick on the pathway
between the swamp and the hedge of
screw-pines, but On Yick continued along
the causeway to seaward, which misunderstanding
led to disaster. The screw-pine
from a distance is a picturesque
addition to any landscape, but a too close
acquaintance with this form of vegetation
is trying. If the Infernal Regions possess
any forms of vegetation, the screw-pine
probably figures amongst the flora of that
region. For instance, it will grow in a
swamp or on waterless sand; it seems
indifferent whether the water that laves
.bn 233.png
.pn +1
its roots is born of fever-laden mud
swamps or of the pure salt sea. Its stem
is of a gnarled and twisted hardness, but
useless as timber; its pretty green leaves
are furnished with spikes that hold like
fish-hooks, and hurt the flesh of human
beings like hot needles. No animal will
eat its leaves, and if burnt by fire it grows
again as if nothing had injured it; and to
crown all, it possesses a fruit which, to
the ordinary observer, differs little from
the luscious and juicy pine-apple, but
which possesses no usefulness whatever,
it being about as nourishing and juicy as
a lump of mahogany. To prevent the
inroads of cattle or the advance of an
enemy the screw-pine ranks high amongst
nature’s impassable obstacles. But enough
of this digression into matters which are
more suitable for a work on Botany or
Forestry.
.bn 234.png
.pn +1
At sundown, true to her appointment,
the love-sick Hoo proceeded slowly along
the mud path by the swamp, and the no
less impetuous On Yick arrived at the
third house of the village, and with a
masterful stride proceeded along the stone
causeway to meet the object of his adoration
in the rapidly forming dusk.
Hoo nervously ran along the mud path,
and at last heard footsteps approaching.
The felt-soled boots of On Yick made
but little noise on the stone causeway, and
consequently in the dark Hoo imagined
that he approached her along the mud
path.
“Is it my lord who approaches his
slave?” softly cried Hoo.
“I come, pearl worth a thousand taels,
dove with golden wings, little fawn with
horns of jade!” replied On Yick in his
most loving tones.
.bn 235.png
.pn +1
“But your humble handmaid sees not
the light of her life, the stream that
satisfies her soul’s thirst. Where art
thou? Come to me, or I faint from
desire.”
On Yick heard these most soul-moving
expressions of maidenly love, and made
a wild rush from the causeway in the
direction of his adored one’s voice. The
result was most regrettable. On Yick fell
headlong into the impenetrable barrier of
screw-pines, his silk jacket and overalls
were torn beyond hope of repair, he lost
his new velvet-topped white-soled shoes,
and, moreover, sustained many nasty
wounds on his legs, arms, and face from
the sharp spines in the hedge. Hoo, of
course, did the wrong thing. Instead of
rushing to her lover’s assistance and aiding
him in his dilemma, she burst into uncontrollable
merriment and ran home, the
.bn 236.png
.pn +1
miserable On Yick being allowed to extricate
himself from the prickly hedge
alone, whence he proceeded in the dark—muddy
and bleeding—to his house, his
raiment torn and his new velvet shoes
lost forever in the sticky mud into which
he had fallen.
Tak Wo returned to his house at dusk
expecting a warm meal and afterwards
a comfortable sleep on the pleasantly
warmed kang. He was greatly incensed,
however, at finding his daughter absent
and no rice and pork prepared, and on the
appearance of Hoo shortly after his return,
he flew into such an ungovernable rage,
that he gave her a severe beating and
retired to bed in a very ill temper. Hoo
also retired to bed supperless, but in sullen
ill humour. She passed a sleepless night,
bent upon revenging herself upon her
father, who had so suddenly brought her
.bn 237.png
.pn +1
down from her heights of romantic love-dreams.
The unfortunate incidents of the previous
night were obliterated from the
memory of the healthy-minded On Yick
after a night’s sleep, so with a good heart
he arrayed himself next morning in order
to present himself to Tak Wo to make
the final arrangements for his marriage
with Hoo.
Tak was feeling very evil-minded, but
he received the suitor for his daughter’s
hand with becoming formality. Anything
would be better than having this awful
daughter in his house, and On Yick found
all his proposals most willingly acquiesced
in by his prospective father-in-law. Hoo
had disappeared without partaking of or
preparing any morning meal, and the
two men talked and talked, and smoked
innumerable pipes of tobacco. The conversation
.bn 238.png
.pn +1
between these two continued in
the politest manner possible, and every
detail of etiquette was observed by each
party. Tak Wo was occupied in delivering
a most erudite and polite discourse on
the duties of a son-in-law to his wife’s
father when On Yick became conscious
of a strong smell of burning in the house.
Soon he saw a thin snake of flame creep
along one of the beams overhead, but still
politeness held him silent. It was not for
such an insignificant person as himself to
interrupt the discourse of Tak Wo and
inform him that his honourable house was
on fire.
The admirable precepts of Tak Wo,
however, were suddenly cut short by
a burning spark falling on his shaven
pate. Forgetful of his dignity he jumped
up and rushed from the house, followed by
On Yick. The disgraceful sight that met
.bn 239.png
.pn +1
their gaze once outside the door will ever
be a reproach to the descendants of Tak
Wo. Two large stacks of dry grass were
ablaze, as well as the roof of the house,
and the crowning horror was Hoo, now
evidently possessed of hundreds of devils,
dancing with a burning brand in her hand,
and shouting most unseemly remarks disparaging
her father and all his ancestors.
On her father’s appearance Hoo betook
herself to the hills, and the efforts of the
people of Tai Kok being at once turned
on extinguishing the conflagration, her
escape was easy.
The fire resulted in the loss of two
stacks of grass and the house, but most
of Tak Wo’s property was in silver,
buried some three feet beneath the mud
floor of his house, consequently his pecuniary
loss was not great; but the disgraceful
behaviour of his daughter had caused
.bn 240.png
.pn +1
him such a serious “loss of face” that
he decided on having recourse to severe
measures.
The junk of Man Yuen was lying in
the harbour of Tai Kok. Man Yuen
carried much of the village’s produce to
the larger towns, and in addition was
probably, if occasion offered, a pirate.
Tak Wo went to the honourable Man
Yuen and explained (with the aid of
fifteen taels) that he (Man Yuen) was
welcome to carry off Hoo and sell her
as a slave to whoever would buy her,
that Man Yuen could take the purchase
money, provided he captured and removed
Hoo, who undoubtedly was possessed of
devils.
Man Yuen’s crew were successful in
their search, and Hoo departed from Tai
Kok for ever. On Yick possesses now a
wife who has never dreamt of frogs or of
.bn 241.png
.pn +1
throwing them at young men, and his mill
prospers as his family increases.
Also there is a Mrs. Jones, living in
Heatherbell Villas, Deepdeen Road, Peckham
Rye. This good lady regales her
visitors with extracts from her daughter’s
letters, the daughter being in China. The
latest extract from Mrs. Jones’ daughter
reads as follows:—
“It is so difficult to understand the
Chinese, but dear George is so hopeful.
So far we have made no converts, but
the captain of a junk, who seems to wish
to learn ‘The Truth,’ has supplied me
with such a nice young Chinese girl as
a servant, and we already have great
hopes of leading her from darkness. Her
Chinese ideas are very funny. She has
mended my stockings with patches of
orange-peel and has sewn black boot buttons
all round the bottoms of George’s
.bn 242.png
.pn +1
white duck trousers. Her wages are small,
and we pay them monthly to Man Yuen,
her uncle. Her name is ‘Hoo,’ and
although her carelessness has nearly
caused the mission-house to be burnt
down on three separate occasions, we
can’t help loving her, and George will
receive her into the ‘Church’ as soon as
she shows a desire for true knowledge.”
.bn 243.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.nf c
KWA NIU’S DERBY
.nf-
.sp 4
.bn 244.png
.pn +1
.bn 245.png
.pn +1
.pb
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch09
KWA NIU’S DERBY
.sp 2
.dc 0.2 0.65
YOU know Shelford? What! Don’t
know Shelford of the Customs?
Then you’ve never heard how he won the
Ping Tu Derby. Shelford, as I said, was
in the Customs, and fate made him spend
many years in the port of Ping Tu. You
probably won’t find Ping Tu on the map,
but, then, maps of China are often inaccurate,
and the varieties of European
spelling adopted by cartographers have
led to confusion. Anyway Ping Tu is
a not unimportant town. The river is
navigable above it for some fifty miles,
and Shelford was the head representative
in that community of the Imperial Chinese
Maritime Customs. In addition to this
.bn 246.png
.pn +1
he probably knew more about the Chinese
than any other European in the neighbourhood,
and was moreover an all-round
sportsman.
There were many sportsmen in Ping
Tu, or, rather, everyone of the small community
was entitled to style himself so.
They possessed a club on the river bank
where cocktails and whiskies and sodas
were consumed, billiards and bowls could
be indulged in, and, moreover, where
ladies could entertain and be entertained
on the verandah between the hours of
three and seven in the afternoon.
Ping Tu, in addition, possessed a golf-links
and a racecourse, and of the racecourse
and Kwa Niu’s memorable Derby
I will tell.
The Ping Tu race-meeting took place
annually in February, and everyone who
could afford to do so entered a horse.
.bn 247.png
.pn +1
Horse, I say—I mean a China pony.
And of course the great event of the
meeting was the Derby. The ponies
came from up North, and were drawn for
by the subscribers as one draws in a
sweepstake. Having drawn your pony,
the next thing was to train it, and for
many weeks the performances of these
unattractive animals formed the sole topic
of conversation at the Club bar, in verandahs,
on the bund, and in ladies’ boudoirs.
Shelford drew a most unpromising brute
of a flea-bitten Mongol pony. It was a
pale yellow colour, had a head much too
heavy for its forelegs, and a nose like a
Roman senator. In addition to its unattractive
appearance it possessed a violent
dislike of white men, and in the first
week bit the biceps out of a “ma foo”
and the knee-cap off a grass-cutter.
Shelford might have condoned these
.bn 248.png
.pn +1
offences had the brute shown any promise,
but the wretched animal proved to be
exceptionally slow in its trials, so he
named it “Kwa Niu” (The Snail).
The training proceeded, excitement in
view of the forthcoming races in Ping
Tu grew intense, and moreover a new
Englishman had arrived in the port.
He was a lank callow youth, fresh from
Ireland, and burdened with the name of
Gubbins.
Gubbins might be described as “young.”
China had till the last few weeks been
nothing to him but a name. Still, here
he was, clerk in the firm of Sardine and
Butterworth, and full of that home energy
so often lacking in the old China hand.
Gubbins with his hearty manners and
youthful enthusiasm at once won his way
into the hearts of society in Ping Tu, and
Shelford, in default of a better jockey
.bn 249.png
.pn +1
(everyone having refused to ride the now
famous Kwa Niu), engaged Gubbins to
ride for him in the Ping Tu Derby.
About a fortnight before the race-meeting
the number of corpses that floated
down the river became burdensome.
Many of the men and officers in the
merchant ships lying in the stream were
attacked with typhoid, and from all
accounts there was a severe epidemic
raging in Whang Chai, a town some six
miles higher up the river. Something
had to be done, as the matter was becoming
serious, and Shelford, from his
intimate knowledge of the language and
ideas of thought of the natives, was
despatched in a steam launch to Whang
Chai to discover the state of affairs, and
if possible to suggest some means of
arresting the ravages of the disease.
Shelford arrived at the highly insanitary
.bn 250.png
.pn +1
little town, and without further delay
interviewed the head official, one To
Phat, an indolent and superstitious civil
mandarin. The chief military officer, a
man with Western ideas and well educated,
was at the time absent from Whang Chai.
Shelford found the people dying by hundreds
in the dirty little town, and as far
as he could see there was every prospect
of their continuing to do so until they
appreciated the fact that drinking-water
need not necessarily be drawn from the
main sewers.
To Phat, comfortably seated in his
yamen, admitted the fact of the enormous
death-rate then registered in Whang Chai,
but to all Shelford’s suggestions of its
cause or prevention he turned the deaf ear
of pompous ignorance. He—To Phat—could
put his finger at once on the cause
of the dreadful mortality. The disease
.bn 251.png
.pn +1
was perfectly natural and only to be expected;
in fact, the whole matter had
been satisfactorily explained to him by a
certain Ching. Ching was therefore sent
for that he might explain to the dull-witted
foreign devil why this fatal epidemic
harassed the peace-loving citizens
of Whang Chai. Shelford at once recognised
in Ching the typical bully of a
yamen runner, the promoter of disturbances,
the paid spy and informer. However,
Shelford listened with polite attention
to the lying scoundrel.
Ching explained that, although perhaps
unknown to the honourable stranger, still
it was a matter of universal knowledge
in Whang Chai that the gentle slope on
which the town had the felicity to be
built was occupied by a dragon. This
benign animal had for centuries caused
innumerable blessings to fall on the happy
.bn 252.png
.pn +1
inhabitants, but that recently certain grave
indignities had been offered him. Firstly,
foreigners, preachers of strange doctrines,
had built a house on the dragon’s head:
this had resulted in the loss of several
vessels trading from Whang Chai; but
the crowning insult had been the building
of a school-house on their benefactor’s
stomach. This final indignity had been
visited on the erring town by pestilence,
and what the end would be no one could
foresee.
Shelford eyed Ching during this recital,
and the bully appreciated the fact that
Shelford read his coward heart like a
book; but the flabby To Phat sat in
greasy self-satisfaction, and was politely
relieved when Shelford withdrew from the
audience.
Shelford then visited the mission-house.
On his walk through the town he saw
.bn 253.png
.pn +1
many signs that made his face grave.
The pastor welcomed him effusively, and
was delighted to talk with a fellow white
man. He admitted with sorrow the frightful
ravages of the epidemic, but was
evidently quite unaware that any danger
threatened himself or his, and spoke cheerfully
of the progress that Christianity
ought to make in Whang Chai in the
future. Shelford also found out that
Ching, the yamen runner, had been one
of the earliest of their converts, but
had sadly fallen away from grace, and
after repeated petty thefts had been dismissed
with disgrace for blackmailing the
girl converts who attended the mission
school.
On leaving the mission to return to
the inn at which he proposed to sleep,
Shelford had further cause for anxiety.
He had already observed that he was
.bn 254.png
.pn +1
being everywhere followed, but now he
saw placards freshly posted about the town.
These cunningly worded notices urged
calmness and abstinence from violence
against foreigners; they further alluded
to the present prevailing epidemic, and
besought the people by piety and prayer
to discover the cause of the present disasters
and the means to be adopted for
restoring health to the community.
The notices were all unsigned, but in
the present state of feeling of the populace
they amounted to nothing more nor less
than an incitement to murder the missionaries.
Shelford decided not to send
his steam launch back to Ping Tu for
assistance, as that would cut off his and
the missionaries’ only hope of escape.
Then, again, any appearance of fear or
running away would probably precipitate
matters, and a riot would ensue. He
.bn 255.png
.pn +1
therefore unconcernedly strolled to his inn
and ordered supper. Before, during, and
after the meal he talked with large
numbers of the townsfolk who came out
of curiosity and nearly crushed Shelford
against the wall in their eagerness to
speak with the foreign devil. The foreign
devil good-naturedly endured their importunities,
although disagreeably conscious
the whole time of the strong anti-foreign
feeling that existed. So early in the evening
he feigned sleepiness, and politely
saying good-night to his unbidden guests,
requested the landlord to show him his
sleeping-room. The room to which the
obsequious landlord conducted him was
as bare as one would expect, and the
kang, or raised oven, on which the
guest must sleep was directly in front of
the door, in which were numerous holes
and cracks.
.bn 256.png
.pn +1
Shelford quickly retired to bed, and
blew out the miserable oil-wick which
served as a lamp. Then noticing that all
was quiet in the inn, he cautiously got up,
put on his clothes in the dark, arranged
the blankets on the kang to look as
if a man were sleeping there, and sat in
a corner of the room with his revolver
ready, awaiting events.
He waited for quite two hours before
anything occurred, and then faint footsteps
could be heard approaching the
door, and a glimmer of light appeared
through its chinks. There was some
whispering. The light rays through the
chinks grew brighter, and at last a
brilliant ray of light was directed through
a hole in the door on the apparently
sleeping figure on the kang. The
light steadied on the recumbent figure,
and then pistol shots rang out with a
.bn 257.png
.pn +1
deafening noise in the small room, filling
it with smoke and causing Shelford to
grip his pistol and jump to his feet ready
to sell his life dearly. Then a conversation
occurred outside the door in which
Shelford easily recognised the voice of
the bully Ching, who asserted that the
man was dead. Another voice urged
him to go in and assure himself of the
fact that the man on the kang was
really dead. Ching argued that the
sleeping figure had not moved after the
explosion of their pistols, and that consequently
he could not be asleep but must
have been killed. Everyone outside the
door seemed to show reluctance to enter
the room, and after further whispered
conversation the would-be murderers departed,
but not before Shelford had heard
Ching say—
“Now we have slain this devil we can
.bn 258.png
.pn +1
quietly kill the missionaries to-morrow
night and loot their house. The men in
the glass boat (steam launch) have been
bribed, so will tell nothing.”
After this they retired. Shelford left
his strained position in the corner, and
with his revolver ready to his hand slept
on the comfortably warmed kang until
daylight.
When he appeared next morning the
innkeeper would have fled from fear, had
not his desire to “save face” at all cost
made him bear an outwardly calm demeanour.
Shelford didn’t fail to notice
the impression that he created on everyone
who saw him in the inn, but he felt
that no further attempt on his life would
be made during daylight; so having
taken breakfast, he told the innkeeper
that he should again sleep at the inn
that night, and that the previous night
.bn 259.png
.pn +1
he had been so comfortable and had
slept so deeply that he thought there
must be some beneficial essence in the
air of Whang Chai that induced refreshing
slumbers.
To go again to the mission-house
would arouse suspicion, so Shelford
wandered about the town all the forenoon
in the hope of accidentally meeting
someone from the mission. As time went
on he became more and more anxious.
That he was being closely watched he
knew, and at last he dared no longer
wander about apparently aimlessly, so he
once more returned to the inn and ate.
If only by good providence the missionaries
would send a message to him!
Two more hours were wasted, Shelford
sitting and smoking in apparent calmness
in the chief room of the inn, holding
conversations with all who addressed
.bn 260.png
.pn +1
him, but inwardly chafing and cursing
his forced inaction.
There was now only an hour of daylight
left; something had to be done.
He called the innkeeper and begged him
to send on board the steam launch for a
change of clothes and some necessaries,
and to order the skiff to wait by the bank
till he should arrive and give some further
orders for being ready to proceed to
Ping Tu at ten o’clock the next morning.
After which Shelford, almost bursting
with anxiety, left the inn, and again
walked through the town praying for the
sight of someone from the mission. The
people, though offering no molestations,
evinced a thinly veiled hostility, and he
knew that if he continued to wander
about after dark his life would be in
danger, but a direct attempt on his part
to enter the mission-house might lead to
.bn 261.png
.pn +1
a siege of the place and the massacre of
all the inmates.
At last, some fifteen minutes before
dark, he met his missionary friend of the
day before. Shelford met him calmly
and shook hands. He then said in his
most matter-of-fact tone: “Don’t show
any surprise at what I am going to say;
we are now closely watched. Go home
at once, put on Chinese clothes, and bring
all your people as soon as possible and
get to the river, where you’ll find a small
white boat. If I’m not there take the
boat at once and push off to the launch
and make the sailors take you to Ping
Tu. You may get through safely, but
don’t attempt to bring anything away
with you. The next half-hour will, I
think, prove rather exciting. Good
night!”
The missionary fortunately was a clever
.bn 262.png
.pn +1
man and a bit of an actor—he saw that
this was no jest on Shelford’s part but
deadly earnest. It was now nearly dark,
and the bully Ching’s agents followed
close on Shelford’s heels as he proceeded
to the inn. On pretext of speaking to
the innkeeper, Shelford left the common
room and walked towards his host’s private
apartments which he knew opened on to
a small courtyard, from which there might
have been no means of escape, but that it
was necessary to risk. He drew the innkeeper
into the room, the spies watching
them both. Shelford continued in conversation
and pushed the door-to with his foot.
His host, instantly suspicious, made a
movement to reopen it, but Shelford, quick
as thought, dealt him a violent blow on
the temple with his pistol, and catching the
Chinaman as he was falling in a heap, so
as to avoid any noise being heard by the
.bn 263.png
.pn +1
spies in the outer room, he laid the unconscious
man noiselessly on the floor, still
keeping up his conversation in Chinese to
deceive the watchers. Then, still talking,
he edged towards the courtyard. A hasty
glance in the now almost complete darkness
showed him that the wall could be
easily scaled. Quick as thought he was
over and speeding through the empty
streets to the water’s edge. As he ran
towards the river he was followed by
three Chinamen. Should he shoot? His
revolver was ready, one of his pursuers
tripped and fell, the boat was close at
hand, and Shelford was about to turn and
fire on his pursuers when—thank God!—he
heard an exclamation in English. They
were the missionaries, but now others
came running with lights. His escape
had been noticed! The four of them
tumbled into the boat and, falling on the
.bn 264.png
.pn +1
oars, attempted to push off with all their
might. The Chinaman in the boat hurled
himself on Shelford and shouted to the
rapidly approaching Chinese. Wrenching
himself free, Shelford struck the man a
crushing blow between the eyes and flung
him overboard, then, jumping into the
stream, with a mighty effort he pushed the
boat into deep water just as Ching’s hirelings
reached the water’s edge. The boat
seemed to be alongside the launch in a
few seconds, but already a howling mob
with flickering lanterns were lining the
bank. Shelford pushed his companions
on board and quickly jumped up himself,
leaving the small boat to drift down-stream.
“Go forward and get up the anchor at
once,” he gasped to the missionaries, who
obeyed him with alacrity. Shelford ran to
the wheel and found a strange Chinaman
.bn 265.png
.pn +1
standing near it. Quick as thought he
took him by the throat, saying, “Cry out
and I strangle you!” The man struggled
to free himself, but Shelford forced him
towards the wire rail of the launch and,
bending him backwards over it, gave a
side kick to his ankles and tipped him
into the river; then running back to the
wheel, he rang down to the engine-room.
“Getting up anchor! Stand by to go
ahead! The foreign devils are all killed
and we must go up-stream, beach the
launch, and loot her.”
The Chinaman in the engine-room,
thinking one of his fellows was speaking,
carried out his orders, and in a few
moments the anchor was up and the
steam launch moving down-stream towards
Ping Tu.
Shelford felt fairly confident now, but
.bn 266.png
.pn +1
there still remained one danger, that of a
pursuit in boats; and in the event of their
running aground in the dark they would
then be captured and——
Slowly the launch crept down the river
with Shelford at the wheel, the missionaries
sitting near in cowed silence, and
everyone longing for the daylight and the
passing of the weary night.
Towards dawn one of the missionaries
whispered to Shelford—
“My wife feels very faint—the reaction,
I suppose. Have you any spirits or wine
on board?”
“Good God! Is one of you a woman?”
said Shelford. “Yes, there’s whisky in
plenty in the cabin. Take her down and
let her lie on the settee—and, padré, when
you’ve given her some whisky you might
bring me a peg and I’ll drink to the health
of a brave woman. Forgive me for my
.bn 267.png
.pn +1
seeming brutality, but I thought you were
all men. Anyway I think we’ve all earned
a drink, and you’ll also find some tins of
biscuits in the locker.”
Shelford’s further remarks to himself
and the way in which he undeservedly
accused himself for lack of feeling for a
female in distress were fortunately inaudible
and equally fortunately unpublishable.
The whisky-and-soda and biscuits had
a wonderful revivifying effect on the small
party of Europeans, and now, as the
steam launch crept slowly down the river,
the first grey streaks of dawn began to
appear. The married missionary and his
wife were asleep on the settees in the
cabin, the other missionary dozed in a
cane chair near the wheel, and as the
light increased Shelford recognised the
land on either side and rang down to
.bn 268.png
.pn +1
the engine-room for full speed ahead. In
less than an hour of sunrise they were
safe in Ping Tu. Friends came off to
meet them, the missionaries were tenderly
cared for by the ever hospitable people
ashore, the two engine-room hands, to
their great surprise, suddenly found themselves
arrested for having been participators
in the plot to kill the white men, and
Shelford proceeded to the British Consul
to make his report. A letter of protest
was then sent to the obese and somnolent
To Phat, but everyone knew that no
reforms could take place in the town of
Whang Chai till the return of the enlightened
military officer, Hop Chu Tung,
who was at present away.
Shelford didn’t talk much in the Club,
and the missionaries were too bewildered
by their exciting few hours to give much
of an account of what had happened, so
.bn 269.png
.pn +1
the incident was soon lost in the more
important event of the approaching races.
Gubbins had proved full of energy and
had been able to walk the famous Kwa
Niu round the course, a great advance, as
for some time the animal had refused to
go between the rails at any price. Now
Gubbins was confident that if Kwa Niu
started he’d either win or savage every
other pony on the track.
At last the opening day arrived. A
Ping Tu race-meeting is worthy of a
short description.
The racecourse is situated some two
miles from the town, and is approached by
a good road. The track is laid round a
hollow, oval in shape, nearly seven furlongs
in length, bounded on one side by
the river and on the other by low scrubby
hills. The centre is cultivated by market-gardeners
to the
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n-th
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term.
.bn 270.png
.pn +1
On the outer side, when turning the
corner to come down the straight to the
winning-post, is a thick clump of screw-pines,
but more of that clump anon.
Opposite the winning-post is the grand-stand,
built of brick, with stalls beneath
for the stabling of the ponies. Every
lady in Ping Tu goes to the races because
she has a new dress from England for the
occasion, and every man goes because he
has a pony entered or, at least, a share
of a pony. There is a paddock of hard
bamboo grass, a bar, and a fenced-in
promenade for ladies and members, outside
which the Chinese swarm in every
degree of blue cotton garment, from the
newest and most stiff of the well-to-do to
the washed-out and carefully-patched garments
of the impecunious.
You can depend on fine weather in the
month of February in Ping Tu; so every
.bn 271.png
.pn +1
lady feels happy knowing she can wear her
best clothes.
There is a general air of holiday in the
community when the races begin, business
is at a standstill, the men repair to the Club
and split their pints of “the boy,” while
the ladies put the finishing touches to their
toilets. And now everyone is arriving on
the course, the English, French, Russian,
German, and other Consuls with their
wives. The members of all the “hongs,”
or business firms, with their belongings,
and lastly Cretes, Jews, Arabians, etc.,
as it says in the Book of Common
Prayer.
The British Consul had brought his
consular guard of twelve Sikh police, and
the Military Governor of Whang Chai had
just returned in time to witness the races,
and arrived that morning with two hundred
Chinese troops to keep the course
.bn 272.png
.pn +1
clear. All was bustle and excitement, the
popping of champagne corks mingled with
the pleasant hum of innumerable voices,
and the Chinese Military Governor, with
his Cambridge education, moved everywhere
among the assembled crowd talking
in perfect English.
Foh, the military official of Whang
Chai, had only arrived at his headquarters
the day before, and although deeply concerned
at finding the mission gutted and
at the outrageous treatment Shelford had
received, his sporting instincts had led him
to attend the races before executing summary
justice upon the perpetrators of the
outrage. So far Foh had had no opportunity
of speaking to Shelford.
And then approached the great event of
the day, the Derby. The Pari Mutuel was
besieged by the Europeans and wealthier
Chinese, and excitement was great as the
.bn 273.png
.pn +1
numbers went up for the race. There
were seven starters—Kwa Niu, pink with
black cap; Stone Broke, blue and white
check; Fuji San, green, white cap; Try
Again, cerise; Greyfoot, yellow jacket, blue
cap; Dai Nippon, blue and white hoops,
yellow cap; and The Dodger, scarlet and
old gold quartered.
The race is a mile and a half, and every
occupant of the grand-stand was eagerly
waiting with glasses fixed on the starting-point
to see the ponies off. So keen was
their attention that the clamour rising from
the swarming hordes of Chinese outside
the enclosure was unheard. At last they
were off to a good start, and Kwa Niu,
acting up to his usual reputation, appears
to be left. At once a hail of good-natured
chaff fell on Shelford, when all at once
the eyes of all in the stand were directed
to the railings round the enclosure. A
.bn 274.png
.pn +1
fight of more than usual violence appeared
to be going on there: the Sikh
police were being assaulted, railings were
torn up and used by the Chinese against
the Indians, the latter being crushed down
by weight of superior numbers. The mob
surged across the course, several of the
men ran and shut the wooden doors by
which the grand-stand was entered. Shelford
was the first to grasp the situation.
He had recognised Ching urging on
the mob. Foh also had seen how grave
matters looked and rushed to the edge
of the balcony, shouting orders to his
soldiers. These, however, were busily
tearing off their uniform jackets and
mingling with the surging mob. Cries
of “Kill! Kill!” resounded on all sides,
and a fierce fight proceeded round the
doors to the grand-stand between the few
remaining Sikhs and the mob. The men
.bn 275.png
.pn +1
tore off the iron rails round the balcony,
and, headed by Shelford and Foh, ran to
the gates and engaged with the mob,
dealing deadly blows right and left on
the shaven heads round them. What a
position! Here were unarmed Europeans
about to be destroyed by a mob of equally
unarmed Chinese, and the women above
in a frail structure of bricks and wood.
Foh was nearly insane with rage. He
felt himself more or less responsible for
the good behaviour of the people, and
here he was, powerless and deserted by
his soldiers. The others had to restrain
him from rushing into the mob alone to
certain death. Now came a diversion.
A horseman dashed through the mob at
a furious gallop, scattering the people
right and left, his steed savagely biting
and snapping at everyone within reach.
The unknown rider was gone like a flash,
.bn 276.png
.pn +1
and the Chinese returned to the attack.
Lustily the white people rained blows on
their yellow brethren, and many a blood-stained
European proved that the Chinese
were getting some home themselves. The
fight was desperate as far as the white
men were concerned, for were not their
women-folk above in the grand-stand.
Once again the Chinese drew off with
loud cries, and once more this desperate
rider appeared; he threw himself from the
saddle and joined the small band of defenders,
and then a most extraordinary
scene was enacted. A small pony, apparently
all hoofs and teeth, took on
the fight. Savaging, kicking, biting, he
rushed among the frightened Chinese,
while the exhausted white defenders marvelled
at the supernatural animal and regained
their breath for a fresh onslaught.
The pony was Kwa Niu and his rider
.bn 277.png
.pn +1
Gubbins. Kwa Niu played the very devil
with his own compatriots, not because he
owed any allegiance to his English owner,
but because he was a devil from start to
finish.
Suddenly a bugle rang out above the
noise of the yelling mob, some horsemen
in gaudy silk jackets dashed among the disordered
Chinese, and deliverance arrived
in the shape of a small party of American
marines, headed by a young ensign with
drawn sword.
“Why, there’s something doing in this
one-horse little burg after all!” quietly
remarked the smiling officer as his handful
of marines turn and face the mob now
fleeing in all directions. “Say, are the
ladies all right? Good boys, I knew
you’d look after them. Guess the rest
of your Derby winners turned up in about
time to turn us out.”
.bn 278.png
.pn +1
Now there was sudden relaxation from
grave to gay. People rolled about in
uncontrollable laughter, the tears streaming
down their cheeks. Even the stolid
marines smiled. And the cause for this
unexpected merriment was Gubbins.
There he stood in a black cap, but otherwise
as nature made him. Finding all
eyes directed on him, he assumed the
colour known as salmon pink. However,
his blushes were quickly hidden under
a Newmarket coat, provided by someone
who had sufficient control over his risibility
to think intelligibly. None too
soon was the youthful Gubbins covered
up, for the ladies were now all anxiety
to leave the racecourse and return to
the safer protection of their own houses.
The American marines and Sikhs escorted
the ladies to their houses, guards were
stationed and sentries posted about the
.bn 279.png
.pn +1
town, and a somewhat anxious night
passed off without further incident.
At an early hour next morning Foh
arrived on horseback. He had ridden to
Whang Chai and back, and had done
many things during the night. He visited
the various Consuls and principal business
people of the community and explained
that Ching and the other ringleaders of
the riot had been captured and executed,
that he had an efficient guard of fifteen
hundred trusted soldiers then on their way
to Ping Tu, and that for the prestige of
all Europeans it was absolutely necessary
that the races should be continued that
day. The Europeans were at first doubtful,
but they soon saw Foh’s arguments,
and in due course the various wives had
the proposal laid before them. To the
everlasting credit of the tender sex be it
told that not a woman hesitated. As the
.bn 280.png
.pn +1
men thought it was the right thing to do,
they all did it, and again the smart frocks
from “home” adorned the grand-stand of
the racecourse.
So far we have not understood why
Gubbins made his opportune entry on
Kwa Niu clad only in a black cap. The
explanation discloses a little side-plot in
the drama. In certain parts of the coast
of England it used to be the practice of
little children when going to bed to pray
somewhat as follows: “Please, God, bless
father! Please, God, bless mother; and
please, God, send a wreck ashore before
morning!” The prayer of these innocents
possessed a counterpart in the feelings
of some of the peaceable people of
Ping Tu during race week. Their prayer,
however, was that a rider might be thrown
at the bend by the screw-pines in order
that they might strip him of his coveted
.bn 281.png
.pn +1
gaudy silk coat, his silk breeches, and
good leather boots. To assist “providence”
it occasionally happened that a
jockey’s stirrup leathers were partly cut
through with a sharp knife, so that on
rounding a corner sharply one leather
might give way and so unseat the rider.
On this occasion they had chosen Gubbins
for their victim, and his leathers were duly
faked by his “mah foo.” Everything
happened in due order for the benefit of
the gentle Celestials. Kwa Niu was well
behind the others, and threw his rider at
the bend as desired. Gubbins got a nasty
toss, and was for a few seconds unconscious,
during which time he was stripped
of everything except his cap. Suddenly
regaining consciousness, he found himself
surrounded by Chinese, and jumped up
in great excitement, thinking he was
about to be murdered. Fortunately for
.bn 282.png
.pn +1
him, Kwa Niu was kicking and bucking
around within a few yards. Wild with fear
Gubbins rushed at the pony, vaulted into
the saddle, and, as we know, went once
round the course, and only managed to
pull the brute up the second time he
reached the grand-stand, where his arrival
proved so opportune.
The second day of the races passed off
with perfect quiet and order. Foh’s soldiers
arrived in good time, and were more
than sufficient to overawe the rabble. At
last Mrs. British Consul stood up to give
the prizes for the various races. The
prizes for the first three races are given,
and then comes the handsome bowl for the
Derby.
“The Derby! Why, Kwa Niu was
the only horse that finished!” says
everyone, and the blushing Gubbins is
pushed forward.
.bn 283.png
.pn +1
“Objection,” says the American Consul;
“he never weighed in.”
“Go and weigh in,” says Shelford.
Of course it was quite unorthodox, but
anyway Gubbins got his saddle and,
amidst a laughing crowd of men, weighed
in wearing a black cap only. Fortunately
he had carried over weight, and as he
stood his weight was exact. The decision
was received with cheer upon cheer. Shelford
had undoubtedly won the Derby, and
Gubbins, hastily regaining his clothes, was
carried before Mrs. British Consul.
Shyly he received the bowl, but when
Mrs. Consul said, “I think your colours
were pink with a black cap, Mr. Gubbins,”
well, Mr. Gubbins’ colours might very well
have been described as scarlet. “But we
were all too upset to notice you,” kindly
added the lady, “and, at all events, we
think you and Kwa Niu saved our lives.”
.bn 284.png
.pn +1
Yes, it was a very popular win, and
the missionaries are back in Whang Chai
again. The pig-like To Phat has been
removed to another district, and the mission-house
and school have been rebuilt,
and, I am glad to say, their new sites do
not in any way encroach on the anatomy
of the famous guardian dragon that lives
beneath the hill in Whang Chai.
.bn 285.png
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.pb
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PLYMOUTH
WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LIMITED
PRINTERS
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.dv class='tnbox' // TN box start
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.it Transcriber’s Notes:
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.it Missing or obscured punctuation was corrected.
.it Typographical errors were silently corrected.
.it Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent\
only when a predominant form was found in this book.
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