Stan Lynn Part 7

"I shan't do that for years yet, uncle," replied Stan, laughing.

"What! You don't know, boy. It's a wonderful climate out here for making your hair grow. Look at the Chinamen's tails!"

"Oh, but a lot of that's false, isn't it?"

"In some cases, my boy, but generally it is all real; and if it were unplaited it would be longer. But don't you imitate John Chinaman. You don't want a long tail. You turn the hair-current from the back of your head on to your chin and let it grow there, so as to make you look big and fierce, ready for dealing with the Chinese merchants."

"But I shall seem boyish for years to come, I'm afraid," said Stan sadly. "I look very young."

"And a splendid thing, too," said Uncle Jeff. "Who wouldn't be you, to look young and feel young?--Eh, Oliver?--Oh, you young masculine geese who are always wis.h.i.+ng that you were men, if you only knew what you are treating with contempt, how much better it would be for you! Why, I'd give--That'll do; I've done. Here, I'm coming with you to your room to go over your togs and odds and ends with you. I think I can give you a bit of advice as to what to take and what to leave behind. Perhaps, too, I can give you two or three useful things. Haven't got a revolver of your own, I suppose?"

"No, uncle."

"Then I'll give you that one--mine. It hits anything, to a dead certainty, if you hold it straight. Got any fis.h.i.+ng-tackle?"

"Yes, uncle; hooks and lines with leads."

"That's right. You may like to catch a few fish to make a change in your diet when it grows too regular. Wing cooks a little, but nothing like so well as Sin.--I suppose we can't spare him to go with Stan here, can we, Oliver?"

"No; it would not be possible," said the latter, smiling; but his voice had a suggestion of sternness in its tones as he added, "And I'm sure that Stan will be quite content to rough it for a while with Mr Blunt, and as long as he gets plain, wholesome food, will not worry himself about the cook."

"Hear him, Stan?" cried Uncle Jeff. "That's the way your father snubs me because I like nice things, and refuse to insult my inside by giving it any kind of hugger-mugger mess that is put before me.--Well, I confess I do like a good dinner, Oliver, and I don't see much harm in it. Well, of course Stan will do his best for us. The Lynns always try to do their best--they can't help it. There I come along and let's see to your kit."

"Don't be in a hurry, Jeff," said Stan's father. "Let's have in Wing and ask him about the return boat. He's a very methodical fellow, and I dare say his plans are already made."

"To be sure; let's have him," replied Uncle Jeff, who rose, went to the door, and called to one of the clerks to send the Chinaman in. "I dare say that he has something up his sleeve about starting. Plenty of room there for any amount of plans--eh, Stan?" he added; with the result that when the man entered, bowing and smiling in his apologetic way, Stan's eyes immediately sought and searched the long, soft, blue silk appendages which hung well over the hands, revealing just the tips of the fingers, while from one hung out the corner of a pocket-handkerchief, and from the other the end of a fan.

A little conversation ensued, in which the Chinaman announced that he had arranged for two berths in the steamer on its return journey--either on its first, which would be in three days' time, or, if Stan were not able to go then, on the second, which would be in a month--allowing for its sailing to the Mour River, loading up, and returning again.

"It is a very short time," said Stan's father, with a sigh; "but he must not wait for a month, Jeff."

"Certainly not," was the reply, followed by an echo of the brother's sigh.--"You'll have to be off, Stan, short as the time is.--As for you, Wing, your people say they hate us foreign devils, as they call us."

"Wing no fool, Mistee Jefflee," said the Chinaman coolly.

"I know that, Wing. You are more of a rogue than fool, as the old saying goes. But what do you mean?"

"Wing no fool 'nuff call good mastee foleign devil. That what fool say."

"That's true, Wing. We have always behaved well to you and paid you honestly."

"Why Wing stay. Mastee Olivey, Mastee Jefflee good man. Topside mastee. Wing stop long time. You wantee Wing takee plop' ca'e young Lynn?"

"Yes; help him, and fight for him if it is necessary," said Stan's father.

"Light. Wing bling him back some day. Mind n.o.body bleak him."

"There, Stan!" cried Uncle Jeff bluffly, as he roared with laughter.

"Wing's going to take as much care of you as if you were a piece of choice china."

"Yes; takee gleat ca'e young Lynn, young mastee. Bling him back some day."

"Yes," said Uncle Jeff; "but mind this, my fine fellow: if you come back some day without him, and say you couldn't bring him because you've got him broken, why, then--"

He stopped short as if to think out what punishment he would award, while the Chinaman's face expanded in a broad grin.

"Wing not fool, Mastee Jefflee," he said. "No come back no young Lynn, fo' mastee killee Wing." Then, turning very serious: "Young Lynn bloken, Wing bloken allee same. Young Lynn killee, bad man killee Wing too."

"I see what you mean, my man," said Stan's father gravely. "You will fight for my son to the end."

"No," said the Chinaman, shaking his head and frowning; "Wing can'tee fightee. Wing tly helpee young Lynn lun away. Pl'aps bad man killee both. Plentee bad man on Mou' Livah. Wing takee gleat ca'e young Lynn."

"Yes; that's all right, Wing. We always trust you."

The Chinaman nodded, smiled, and then approached Stan, taking his hand, bending down, and holding the back against his forehead.

"There, Stan," said his father; "you will find Wing a faithful servant, and you can trust him to help you out of difficulties, for his knowledge of his fellow-countrymen will enable him to give you warning of things which would be hidden from you.--Do you fully understand, Wing, what I am saying to my son?"

The Chinaman bowed, and was soon afterwards dismissed.

The next three days were pretty well taken up in watching the repairs of the lower part of the great warehouse, and in making the final preparations for the start to Mour River; and during that time Stan had the satisfaction of learning that the princ.i.p.al merchants of Hai-Hai had joined in asking for better protection of their property in the great port--a demand which was responded to by those in authority arranging for a section of the military police force being stationed nightly within easy reach of the hitherto unprotected up-river part where the Lynns' warehouse was situated. And this was talked over on the morning when Stan and his Chinese attendant and guide stood on the deck of the steamer talking to the brothers Lynn, Uncle Jeff telling the lad that he was to take care of himself and not fidget about them, for they would be safe enough now, a pistol-shot out of a window being warning enough to bring armed a.s.sistance in a very few minutes.

"We shall be all right, Stan," said Uncle Jeff heartily; "it is we who will have to fidget about you."

"Yes, he is quite right, Stan, my boy," said the lad's father, grasping his hand warmly. "Send us a line as often as a boat loads up at the _hong_."

"And you will write to me, father?" said Stan, whose heart was sinking now that the time of parting was so near.

"Of course--regularly, my boy."

"And you too, Uncle Jeff?"

"I mean to keep a journal, Stan, and post it up regularly like a day-book, all for your benefit. There! the time will soon slip by, and you'll be coming home again. Ah! there goes the last bell."

"So soon?" said Stan excitedly.

His words were almost rendered inaudible by the shouts of "All for the sh.o.r.e!"

It was a hurried scene of confusion then for a few minutes, with repeated warm pressures of the hand in silence, and then Stan's eyes were being strained after a boat that had suddenly seemed to glide away when the steamer quivered and throbbed and threw up a chaos of foaming water astern. In that boat the brothers Lynn were standing up waving their hats, and the little craft seemed to go faster and faster though the two rowers had not yet lowered their oars.

Stan leant over the rail of the steamer, waving his hat in return, while the boat grew less and less, his father's features blurred and indistinct, and the great wharf seemed to be flying now while the steamer stood still. Then the boats that had taken people to the sh.o.r.e were all mixed up together in one patch, and the lad felt that his hat-wavings were all in vain, and that it was impossible for them to be seen.

There was something like a solid sigh in Stan's throat, but he choked it down as he turned his head and looked inboard, to find that Wing the Chinaman, dressed now in blue cotton, was squatted down on the deck close behind him; and apparently he had been watching his actions all the time, for he nodded now and smiled compa.s.sionately in his young master's face.

"Young Lynn velly solly go 'way?" he said.

"Of course I don't like it--at first," said Stan hurriedly, and feeling ready to resent the compa.s.sion of the man who was to be his servant.