Messer Marco Polo | Page 9

scarce thing, until you looked at the
brown face of him and big gold ear-rings. And then you'd know what
he was: he was a great sea-captain.
But where did he come from? You might know from the high cheek
bones and the eyes that were on a slant, as it were, that it was an
Eastern man was in it. It might be Java and it might be Borneo, or it
might be the strange country of Japan.
And there were a couple of strange occurrences in the wine-shop. The
Indian juggler was being baited by the fighting men, as people will be
after poking coarse fun at a foreigner. The slim Hindu fellow wasn't
taking it at all well. He was looking with eyes like gimlets at a big
bullock of a soldier that was leading the tormenters.
"Show me something would surprise me," he was ordering. "Be
damned to this old woman's entertainment!" says he. "As a magician,"
says he, "you're the worst I ever saw. If you're a magician," says he,
"I'm a rabbit."
And there was a roar at that, because he was known to be a very brave
man.
"Show me a magic trick," says he.
Says the Hindu:
"Maybe you'd wish you hadn't seen it."
"Be damned to that!" says the big fellow.
"Look at this man well," the Hindu told the room. "Look at him well."
He throws a handful of powder in the fire and chants in his foreign
language. A cloud of white smoke arises from the fire. He makes a pass
before it, and, lo and behold ye! it's a screen against the wall. And
there's a great commotion of shadows on the screen, and suddenly you
see what it's all about. It's a platform, and a man kneeling, with his head
on the block. You don't see who it is, but you get chilled. And suddenly

there's a headsman in a red cloak and a red mask, and the ax swings and
falls. The head pops off, and the body falls limp. And the head rolls
down the platform and stops, and you see it's the head of the fellow
who wanted to see something, and it's in the grisly grin of death. . .
"There's your latter end for you," says the conjurer. "You wanted to see
something. I hope you're content."
The big fellow turns white, gulps, gives a bellow, and makes a rush; but
the conjurer isn't there, nor his screen nor anything.
Everybody in the room was white and shaken -- all but the sea-captain.
He just tamps his pipe as if nothing had happened, and smokes on. He
doesn't even take a drink from his glass.
And a little while later an Irish chieftain walks in. He's poor and ragged
and very thin. You might know he'd been fighting the heathen for the
Holy sepulchre, and so entitled to respect, no matter what his condition.
And behind him are five clansmen as ragged as he. But a big German
trooper rolls up.
"And what are you?" says the big, burly fellow.
"A gentleman, I hope," says the ragged chief.
"'Tis yourself that says it," laughs the German trooper. The chieftain
snicks the knife from his armpit, and sticks him in the jugular as neat as
be damned.
"You'd might take that out, Kevin Beg" -- the Irish chief points to the
killed man -- "and throw it in the canal. Somebody might stumble over
it and bark their shins."
Now this, as you can conceive, roused a powerful commotion in the
room. They were all on their feet, captains and mariners and
men-at-arms, cheering or grumbling, and arguing the rights and wrongs
of the matter. All but the sea-captain, who saw it all, and he never
blinked an eyelid, never even missed a draw of the pipe.

And then Marco Polo knew him to be a Chinaman, because, as all the
world knows, Chinamen are never surprised at anything.
CHAPTER IV
So Marco Polo goes over and salutes him politely.
"I wonder if you mind my sitting down by you for a while," he says. "I
perceive you're from China."
The sea-captain waves him politely to his place.
"I'm from China." He smiles. "You guessed right."
"Is it long since you've been in China?"
"Well, that depends upon what you call long," says the captain. "If you
mean time, it's one thing. If you mean voyage, it's another. For you've
got to take into account," says he, "adverse winds, roundabout turns to
avoid currents, possible delays to have the ship scraped free from the
parasite life that does be attaching itself to the strakes, time spent in
barter and trade. Other matters, too; the attacks of pirates; cross-grained
princes who don't want you to be