Blue Jackets | Page 4

and left, forming a lane for us to pass along, and we followed him for the few dozen yards between the landing-place and his place of business; but it was like passing through so much human sand, which flowed in again behind us, and as soon as we were in the shelter of the lightly-built bamboo place, crowded round the door to stare in.
But Ching had regularly taken us under his protection, and, stepping into the doorway, he delivered himself of a furious harangue, which grew louder and louder, and ended by his banging to the door and fastening it; after which he turned to us with his little black eyes twinkling, and crying--
"Allee light. Ching light man light place."
We all laughed, of course, and the Chinaman joined in. Then, growing serious directly, he looked from one to the other.
"You likee dlink?"
"No, no, not yet," cried Barkins.
"No likee dlink?" said the Chinaman wonderingly; and then in a voice full of reproof, "Sailor boy likee dlink."
"Oh yes, by and by," cried Smith.
"Ah, you wantee buy fan, shawl, ivoly? Fancee shop."
"No, no, we don't want to buy anything now," cried Barkins. "We'll pay you--"
"Allee light," cried the man, brightening up, for he had looked disappointed, and he held out both hands for the promised pay.
"Oh, come, wait a bit," I said. "We want you to take us and show us the shops."
"No, no. Shop no good. Bess shop--fancee shop, Ching."
"Oh yes; but we want to see the others too, and the streets."
"Stleet allee full dust--allee full mud. No good."
"Never mind," said Barkins; "we want to see them, and the temples and mandarins' houses."
"Pliest shut up temple. Want muchee money. Mandalin call soldier man muchee, put all in plison. No good."
"They'd better," cried Smith; "why, the captain would blow all the place down with his big guns."
"No blow Ching fancee shop down. Englis' spoken. Good fliend."
"Look here, Ching. Shut up shop, and come and take us all round the town to see everything, and we'll each give you a dollar."
"Thlee dollar?" cried the man, holding his head on one side, and raising three fingers.
"Yes," we cried, and once more his hand went out.
"What can't you trust us?" cried Smith.
"No tlust. All pay leady money. Go 'board. Fo'get."
"Oh no, we shan't," I cried. "And look here, Ching, after we've been round the town we want to go to the theatre."
"'Top flee day to go to fleatre?" he said.
"Three days! no. We must be back on board at sundown."
"No go fleatre--no time."
"Never mind the theatre, then," cried Barkins. "Now then, off we go. And I say, boys, let's have something to eat first."
"Wantee something eatee?" cried Ching, making for a canister upon a shelf.
"No, no," cried Smith, "not that. We want a good dinner. Do you know what a restaurant is?"
"Lestaulant?"
The Chinaman shook his head.
"Wantee good din': eat muchee soup, fis', cakee?"
"Yes, that's right; come along."
The yellow-faced man went softly to the door and listened, while we glanced round at the collection of common Chinese curios, carvings, lanterns, sunshades, stuffed birds, bits of silk, and cane baskets which filled the place, till he came back to us with a cunning look, and his eyes twinkling, as Smith said, "like two currants in a penny bun."
"Too muchee men all wait," he whispered. "No talkee talkee;" and, making a gesture to us to be very silent, he led us through the back of his shop into a smaller room, closed and fastened the door, and then led us through another into a kind of yard full of boxes and old tea-chests, surrounded by a bamboo paling.
There was a gate at the end of this, and he led us through, fastened it, and, signing to us to follow, led us in and out behind houses, where we sometimes saw a woman or two, sometimes children at play, all of whom took refuge within till we had passed.
"Big clowd outside, wait long time," said Ching, with a laugh; and directly after he led us along a narrow alley and out into a busy street, which was crowded enough, but with people going to and fro, evidently on business, and though all stopped to look, and some followed, it was not a waterside crowd of loafers, but of respectable people, moved by curiosity to watch the barbarian sailors passing along their street, but paying most heed to me with the heavy glass.
I'm getting an old man now, my lads--the old boy who is writing this log; but it all comes back as clear to my mind's eye as if it were only yesterday: the narrow, busy street, with men shuffling along carrying packages, baskets of fruit and vegetables or fish, cages too containing birds, and all in the same way slung at the ends of a stout bamboo placed across