Stan Lynn: A Boy's Adventures in China

But he remained silent, and trudged on close behind his companion, stumbling every now and then in the darkness, and longing the while for the coming of broad daylight, so that he could avoid the rough stones and mud-holes which seemed to be always in his way.

He was surprised, too, at the extent of the city, for no sooner was one devious street passed than they plunged into another, their wanderings lasting for what must have been close upon half-an-hour, before they plunged into a narrower passage than ever – one where the overhanging eaves on either side seemed to nearly touch – while right in front a huge wall towered up, looking jetty black, all but a square patch on a level with their feet.

“Why, this must be a big house into which we are going,” he thought.

But the idea had no sooner crossed his mind than he felt his arm gripped, and Wing checked him so suddenly that he came heavily against his guide’s chest.

“What’s the matter?” whispered Stan.

“St! Big gate. Plentee soljee fass sleepee,” whispered Wing. “Now come ’long, quick, quick.”

He slipped his hand down to the lad’s waist as he spoke, and drew him along past where Stan dimly made out a group of men sitting and lying upon a big bench beneath a great shadowy house.

There was no time to see more before they were out on the other side, with the great building reared up in the gloom behind them, and a feeling of freedom as of an open space in front.

So great a sense of relief came over the lad that he felt bound to speak; but certain sounds behind checked him once more, and he turned cold at the proximity of the danger they had escaped.

For a deep, gruff voice growled out something he could not interpret, and this was replied to by another voice, evidently that of a man newly aroused from sleep.

The brief conversation was carried on angrily, and interrupted again and again as if the speakers kept listening.

This was proved to Stan by the firm pressure of Wing’s hand, and the twitches it kept on giving as he stood otherwise quite motionless.

Stan’s heart beat till a feeling of suffocation began to oppress him, while with straining eyes he tried to penetrate the dark shadows behind. At last, however, the talking ceased, and he felt the hand which Wing had at liberty pressing upon the top of his head as if to make him stoop down. Grasping his guide’s wishes, he bent low, and immediately felt himself drawn onward, the pair stealing along softly in the darkness as silently as possible, and as quickly, for before they had gone many yards Stan was conscious of the fact that there was a long, pale line of light right ahead, and that it was not so dark; for on glancing over his shoulder he could dimly see the gate through which they had come, a huge structure with curving roof and vast eaves, dominating a high wall which went off into the darkness right and left.

“Velly neah ketchee ketchee,” said Wing, with a sigh of relief.

“But suppose they had caught us,” said Stan; “I am an English subject, and you are my attendant. They dared not have kept us.”

Wing uttered a funny little squeak.

“Eh?” he cried. “Wheah Englis’ sailoh? No Englis’ man-o’-wha, and big gun go bang two time. Chinaman velly much aflaid when Englis’ soljee – sailoh heah. Not heah now; Chinaman laugh; say, ‘Don’t ca’e mandalin button.’ Chinese soljee ketchee young Lynn – Wing. Say, ‘Don’t ca’e nobody.’ Puttee in plison. P’l’aps nevah come out again. Velly bad.”

“Ah, well! they didn’t see us,” said Stan, “so let’s go on faster.”

“Yes; go fastee now. Go long way, have bleakfast. Don’tee want see soljee. Plentee don’t ca’e lobbah. Steal dollah. Takee young Lynn gold watch. Velly bad, wicked man.”

“We shan’t meet any of them now, I suppose?” said Stan as he gave an uneasy look round at the fast-broadening dawn.

“Wing no know. Velly likely bad soljee come. Velly likely no bad soljee come. Allee same pilate on livah. Don’t know quite safe till get home. Wing velly glad get home to hong. S’pose get home and no young Lynn. Misteh Blunt say, ‘Where young Lynn?’ and Wing say been gone lose young Lynn. Misteh Blunt call Wing dleadful name. Nea’ly kill Wing.”

“Then you must not lose me, Wing.”

“No; no must lose young Lynn. Takee gleat ca’e young Lynn.”

He nodded and smiled as he hurried his companion along, till the great gateway began to grow small in the distance, and the glazed tiles of the roof glittered and flashed and grew confused; while in the distance, far down the rough track, a temple seemed to rise out of a clump of trees, at whose edge a few humble-looking houses appeared beyond where the regularity of the enclosures told of cultivation.

A short time later Wing’s next words sent a thrill of satisfaction through Stan, for he laughed, chuckled, and rubbed his hands.

“Good bleakfast,” he said. “Plenty eat, plenty tea. Wing know allee people.”

Before they had gone much farther Stan was in possession of the information that the place they were approaching was a large tea-farm, with its warehouses, and sheds where tea-chests were made; and that for a long time past the produce of this farm had been sent down regularly to the hong by one or other of the trading-junks that bore the up-country produce to the stores of the foreign merchants.

This was interesting enough, and suggestive of the journey now becoming perfectly peaceful. But Stan’s main ideas at this time were in connection with the expected meal, so that plenty of energy was brought to bear to get over the intervening distance; while, to make matters better, it soon became evident that they were seen. People came out to stand in the sunshine, shading their eyes and watching the coming visitors. Wing’s signals were answered, and a couple of young men came running and recognised the guide, when the visitors were eagerly welcomed to join the morning meal that had been prepared.

The troubles of the early morning were soon forgotten, while, but for the strangeness of his surroundings, there were moments when Stan could have fancied that he was enjoying the hospitality of some farmer’s family thousands of miles away in old Devon. But the satisfaction was only short-lived, for the meal was hardly at an end before the door and windows were darkened prior to being thrown open by a crowd of rough-looking men bearing clumsy weapons.

Wing was seated with his back to the door, and at first saw nothing, for Stan, who had the fresh-comers in full view, felt that the best plan would be to sit perfectly calm and unconcerned.

And this he did till Wing, startled by the darkening of the window, looked quickly round and sprang to his feet.

“Lun! lun!” he whispered sharply to his young charge; and catching at his wrist, he tried to drag him towards the door in the back of the place.

He was too late.

A rush was made by the rough-looking soldiers, several of whom literally pounced upon Stan, hurling him down to the floor; and as he, naturally enough, made a brave dash for liberty, a fierce struggle ensued, in which the lad had ample proof of the futility of a half-grown boy trying to resist the united efforts of half-a-dozen heavily built men.

Of course, the struggle did not last many minutes before Stan found himself upon the earthen floor of the Chinese house, with four men seated upon him, leaving him hard work to get his breath, as he stared wildly round to see how his companion had fared.

But he looked in vain, for in the noise and confusion Wing had managed to get behind some of the people of the house, who willingly helped him to pass outside, leaving Stan to his fate.

“A coward!” muttered the boy as soon as he had satisfied himself that Wing had gone.

“No,” he added after a few moments’ thought; “he couldn’t help it, poor fellow! I know: he has escaped. He’ll go down the river to warn Mr Blunt, and he’ll get help from the port. They’ll send men up from one of the ships to get me set at liberty. For these people will not dare to hurt me. I’ll be bound to say that Mr Blunt will soon get to know, and if these scoundrels are not punished severely for this it is strange to me.”

Chapter Ten

“Cowardly Brutes!”

Stan had the stout old tea-farmer who owned the place to thank for the rescue from his extremely awkward position. For, making tremendous use of his tongue, in words which, if interpreted, undoubtedly would have proved to mean, “Let the lad get up, you brutes; can’t you see that you are nearly stifling him?” the farmer supplemented his fierce verbal abuse with blows and thrusts which, in spite of being armed, the invaders made no attempt to resist. They gave way good-humouredly enough, evidently being quite satisfied with their capture; and after taking the precaution to station a spearman at each door and window, they allowed Stan to rise, and then bound him hand and foot to the framework of a cane chair, which they planted full in sight in the middle of the room, before crowding to the well-spread table and making a raid upon the food.