Blue Jackets | Page 6

nicee."
"Here, I say, Ching," cried Smith, "gently; any one would think we
were babies. Stow some of that nicee nicee."
"Yes! Stow all along inside, like ship. Allee good. Come 'long."
For we had reached a showy-looking open-sided building, standing a
little way back in a well-kept garden, with rockeries and tiny fish-ponds,
clipped trees and paved walks, while the large open house displayed
tables and neat-looking waiters going to and fro, attending upon
well-dressed Chinamen, whose occupation was so much in accordance
with our desires, that we entered at once, and Ching led the way to a
table; one of the waiters coming up smiling as soon as we were seated.
"Now then," cried Barkins, who was full of memories of hard biscuit
and tough salt beef, "what are we going to have to eat?"
"I don't know," I said, looking round uneasily. "What have they got?"
"Here, let's make Ching order the dinner," cried Smith. "Look here, old
chap. We can have a good dinner for a dollar apiece, can't we?"

"Velly good dinner, dollar piecee," he replied.
"That's right," said Barkins; "we don't have a chance every day to spend
a dollar upon our dinner. Go it, Ching. Tell the waiter fellow, and order
for yourself too. But I say, boys, we must have birds'-nest soup."
"Of course," we chorussed, though Smith and I agreed afterwards that
we rather shrank from trying the delicacy.
Ching lost no time in giving the orders, and in a very few minutes the
man bustled up with saucers and basins, and we began tasting this and
tasting that as well as we could with the implements furnished to us for
the purpose, to wit chopsticks, each watching the apparently wonderful
skill with which Ching transferred his food from the tiny saucers placed
before him, and imitating his actions with more or less success--
generally less.
We had some sweet stuff, and some bits of cucumber cut up small, and
some thick sticky soap-like stuff, which rather put me in mind of
melted blancmange with salt and pepper instead of sugar, and when this
was ended came saucers of mincemeat.
"'Tain't bad," whispered Barkins, as we ate delicately. "Peg away, lads.
We're pretty safe so long as we eat what Pigtail does."
I did not feel so sure; but I was hungry, and as the food did not seem to
be, as Barkins said, bad, I kept on, though I could not help wondering
what we were eating.
"I say, Ching," said Smith suddenly, "when's the birds'-nest soup
coming? Oughtn't we to have had that first?"
"Eat um all up lit' bit go," replied Ching.
"What, that sticky stuff?" I cried.
"Yes. No have velly bess flesh birds'-ness for dolla'; but all velly good.
Nicee nicee, velly nicee."

"Don't!" cried Smith excitedly.
"Let him be, Blacksmith," said Barkins; "it's only his way. Ah, here's
something else!"
I looked at the little saucers placed before us, in which, neatly divided,
were little appetising-looking brown heaps, covered with rich gravy,
and smelling uncommonly nice.
"What's this?" said Barkins, turning his over with the chopsticks.
"Velly good," said Ching, smiling, and making a beginning.
"Yes; don't smell bad," said Smith. "I know: it's quails. There's lots of
quail in China. 'Licious!"
I had a little bit of the white meat and brown gravy, which I had
separated from a tiny bone with the chopsticks, and was congratulating
myself on my cleverness, when it dropped back into my saucer, for
Ching, with his mouth full, said quietly--
"No, not lit' bird--lat."
"What's lat?" said Barkins suspiciously.
"No lat," said Ching smiling; "lat."
"Well, I said lat. What is lat?"
Smith put down his chopsticks. I had already laid down mine.
"What's the matter?" said Barkins, who kept on suspiciously turning
over the contents of his saucer.
"He means rat," whispered Smith in an awful tone.
"What!" cried Barkins, pushing himself back with a comical look of
disgust upon his face.

"Yes, lat," said Ching. "Velly good fat lat."
Our faces were a study. At least I know that my companions' were; and
we were perfectly silent while our guide kept on making a sound with
his mouth as he supped up the rich gravy.
"Here, hold hard a minute," said Smith. "I mean you, Ching."
"Yes?" said the Chinaman, with a pleasant smile; and he crossed his
chopsticks, and looked at our brother middy inquiringly.
"What was that we were eating a little while ago?"
"Clucumber; velly good."
"No, no; before that."
"Birds'-ness soup; velly cost much. Not all birds'-ness. Some shark-fis'
fin."
"I don't mean that, I tell you," cried Smith in an exasperated tone of
voice. "I mean that other brown meat cut up small into the brown sauce.
It was rabbit, wasn't it?"
"Oh no,"