Stan Lynn Part 27

The man nodded.

"Bad news?"

Wing nodded again sharply.

"Out with it, then, and let's know the worst."

The trembling Chinaman hesitated for a few moments more, and then pressed up towards his chief and whispered something quickly in his ear.

"What!" roared the manager, catching him fiercely by the shoulders and making the poor fellow utter a piteous wail as he turned to Stan as if for help.

"Wing can't help," he cried. "Wing no want tell baddee news."

"Then you've brought bad news?" said Stan excitedly.

"Velly bad news. Wing can't help. T'ink bes' come tell Misteh young Lynn dead and allee bad news."

"Yes, yes," said Stan impatiently.--"The poor fellow's half-frightened out of his wits, Mr Blunt. You're too harsh with him now he's in such a weak state.--Look here, Wing; it's all right. You see matters are not so bad. I'm not hurt, and Mr Blunt does not blame you."

"But Wing can't help," pleaded the poor fellow. He waved his hands and looked round at the clerks and warehous.e.m.e.n, who were drawing up wondering why their chief had seized the returned agent so fiercely; while some of his fellow-countrymen also began to draw near, the sight of "the Boss," as they called him, apparently about to punish one of them being irresistible, and whispers ran round in two languages, Anglo-Saxon and the base alloy known as "Pidgin," inquiring what Wing had done.

There was silence now for quite half-a-minute, during which time the pressure of the manager's hands, or that of poor Wing's feelings, had the effect of squeezing out a few tears, which swelled and swelled till they were big enough to roll over the man's eyelashes and find their way into a couple of curved creases which made his mouth look as if it had been placed between parentheses.

Down these gullies in the Chinaman's skin the tears ran till they dripped from his chin, and possibly it was the sight of them that brought Blunt out of his stern fit of thinking, for he suddenly loosed his hold and dropped his hands to his sides, saying hoa.r.s.ely:

"Now then, say that out aloud for every one to hear."

"Wing speakee quitee loud?" said the Chinaman, rolling his head slowly like a ball in its socket, as if he were trying to find out where any damage had been done to the mechanism.

"Yes; let's have it. Look sharp."

Evidently satisfied that none of his vertebra were damaged, a look of satisfaction smoothed the wrinkles in Wing's face, which became round again, and in place of the painful parenthetic curves, pleasantly mirthful lines began to appear; his eyes became two diagonal slits with something twinkling between the edges, and he reached up both hands to take hold of his ribbon-tied pigtail, which he gave a whisk to right and left before he let it fall down between his shoulders.

"Misteh Blunt wantee Wing tell evelybody whole tluth?"

"Yes; and be sharp about it," was the angry reply.

"Misteh Blunt no knockee Wing head on tea-box, makee sore?"

"No, I shall not touch you again, however bad the news is," said the manager gravely.

"Misteh Blunt plomise like gentleman no killee poo' Chinaman?"

"No, I tell you! Now then, out with it! But mind this: if what you say is not true, sir, you may make tracks out of this place, and never show your face here again."

"Yes," said Wing calmly enough. "Make tlack an' lun away velly fa.s.s."

"For look here, sir; if you create a bad scare to frighten every one here you deserve to be hung."

"Flighten me too. Flighten velly much. But Misteh Blunt no hang poo'

Chinaman?"

"As sure as I'm here, I will, sir--by your pigtail--"

Wing's hand went up to the black appendage, and he took hold and gave it a gentle pull as he glanced at Stan, to say softly:

"Make poo' Chinaman cly. Oh deah! oh deah! Misteh Blunt hang Wing up so?"

"Yes, to the crane, and give you a few dips in the river to wash the lies out of you."

"Wing no got tell lie. Allee velly tlue. Gleat tlouble come. Soljee gleat many up livah-side; pilate man gleat many up livah. Big junk.

Allee buln missionaly house, killee foleign devil, killee evelybody.

Buln village, pull up tea-bush, stealee tea-box, buln go-down. Gleat many fightee; cuttee float, dlown. Oh, velly, velly dleadful up livah!

Wing lun away, come tell Misteh Blunt, evelybody. Come down livah velly soon."

"Nice bit of news this, Mr Lynn," said Blunt, turning his frowning face to Stan, who noted that there was a fierce, lowering glow in the half-shut eyes.

"Yes," replied the lad; "but perhaps very much exaggerated.--Here, Wing, is all this quite true?"

"Oh, allee quitee tlue. Wing nevah tellee big thumpy. Too much 'flaid Misteh Blunt find out. Knock down."

"One reason for telling the truth," said Blunt bitterly. "But that is quite true; I should if I found him out."

"Plenty man lun away up to mountain; soljee, pilate come lob house, buln evelyting up. Shoot bang. Wing, only lun away like evelybody."

"I'm afraid it's all true," said Blunt sombrely.

"Eh? No!" cried Wing excitedly. "Blunt tell big lie now; not 'flaid a bit. Makee Chinee pilate muchee flighten. Makee lun away."

"Perhaps," said the manager grimly. "But how far away are these people, Wing?"

"Come velly soon. Big junk sail down livah. Wing see um."

"Well, you all hear?" said the manager sternly. "No; you are not all here. Call every one. I want everybody to hear how we stand.--You, Wing, if you're well enough, get all the Chinamen together."

Wing went off to the far end of the warehouse and wharf, one of the clerks to the offices, and in a few minutes every man, European and Asiatic, was present, and heard of the threatened attack; after which the manager looked in Stan's direction and said sharply:

"There! you have all heard how we stand, and there are two courses open.

One is to crowd on board the river-boat and set all sail down to the port, and get out to sea and coast along north for Hai-Hai."

"No gettee big junk boat," cried Wing excitedly. "Capen velly muchee flight. Pull up anky. Lun away. Misteh Blunt lookee."

The manager glanced sharply at the window, and, true enough, there was the junk with all sail set, gliding down the river, and now a quarter of a mile away.

"Hah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the manager, giving one foot an angry stamp. "That settles one plan. No; we could collect some small boats if we had time.

But the other course is to barricade the place, leaving loopholes, and fight to the last. We might beat them off. Now, I am manager here, and responsible for everything, but I feel that I have no right to call upon any man to risk his life against these murderous wretches. But I should like to hear Mr Lynn's opinion.--This place is the property of your uncle and father, sir, and if we give it up without striking a blow, by to-morrow morning the valuable store of tea and silk, with the building, will be only a heap of ashes. What is your opinion about the matter, Mr Lynn?"

"It seems very horrible," said Stan, with something like a shudder.