The Penang Pirate | Page 5

the trouble of its being repeated to him.
"Yah, yah! me no sleep, Massa Scuppers," he called out with that
cheerful good humour that seems characteristic of the darky race, and
which seems proof against any ill treatment;--"me jus' goin' brin' coffee,
sah, yes sah! It am lubly hot, massa, and 'trong as carthoss!"
"Hot and strong is it, Snowball?" said the first mate in his hearty, jolly
way, as the darky cook stepped gingerly past the group of Lascars, and
handed the cup of coffee up to him on the poop, with an obsequious
bow. "But, how is it you're not asleep?"

"Best to be most circumspectious, massa, wid dem culled pussons
aboard; no caulking wid dem nasty yaller gen'lemen for me!"
"Well, that's a good un!" laughed Mr Scuppers; "the pot calling the
kettle black with a vengeance!"
"You mistake sah," said Snowball with dignity. "I knows, Massa
Scuppers, I isn't 'xactly like you white gen'lemen; but den I isn't a nasty
mulatto like dem poor trash; and dey isn't to be trusted!"
"Perhaps you're right, Snowball; but we ought not to suspect them till
we've found them out, you know."
After another turn or two on deck, Mr Scuppers cabled the boatswain to
him,--
"Martens," said he, "have those Lascars turned in yet?"
"No, sir," said Bill; "one of 'em at all events was awake just now, and
spying about forward."
"Indeed!" exclaimed the mate in a tone of surprise, as if the information
was both unexpected and alarming. "Pass the word forward for the
serang to come aft to me at once!"
"Aye, aye, air," replied the boatswain, touching his cap as he left the
poop; and in another minute or so this Malay--serang is the name given
to the chief of the gang--appeared, rubbing his eyes as if just awakened
up from sleep.
He was the very same broad-shouldered, thick-set, tawny-yellow native
with jet black coarse hair, like that out of a horse's tail, and low
Mongolian type of face, whom the boatswain had seen inspecting the
casks on deck. He now cringed and salaamed before the first mate.
"You wantee me, comprador?" said the man, speaking in that species of
Portuguese patois which is so common in the Straits Settlements.
"Yes, Kifong," said the first mate, speaking likewise in broken lingo,

with the idea of making himself better understood. "Captain sahib say
he wantee you berry early morning, four bell, to get up anchor. You go
below now first chop, and turn in; do you hear that!" he shouted out in
very unmistakable English, pointing below to the foc's'le hatch.
"Si, Senor Comprador," salaamed again the Malay; then, giving a shrill
whistle and waving his rattan of office, the gang around the mainmast
roused up, and followed him to their bunks below as obediently as a
flock of sheep, without a word.
"Get the side-lines ready for the accommodation ladder, Martens," said
Mr Scuppers, "and see that the gig-falls are clear to hoist it in; for we'll
trip anchor at daylight if the wind holds, and leave this blessed Canton
River in our wake. Slip down the foc's'le hatch over the yellow beggars.
So there, that's all right, and the cap'en can come as soon as he
pleases!"
Presently the sound of oars was heard approaching the ship; and soon
the captain's gig, pulled by six oars, came alongside quietly. The light
was again shown, the ladder let down and side-ropes manned, and the
well-known face of the skipper appeared above the gangway. "This
way, Mr Meredith," said the latter to a well-wrapped-up gentleman who
accompanied him, besides the second mate, Mr Sprott, who remained
behind to see the gig hoisted in. "This way, Mr Meredith; please tell the
others to follow!"
The captain thereupon led the way into the saloon--Snowball carrying
the lantern to light up--followed by the gentleman whom he had
addressed by name, and ten others in single file bringing up the rear
behind him; then the cuddy doors were slid to and the saloon cut off
from the rest of the ship.
The captain came on deck after a time, and ordered the boatswain to
tell the men to give no hints to the Malays as to the passengers, and
then an anchor-watch was set, and all hands turned in for the night.
VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER THREE.

THE SAMPAN.
Towards six bells in the morning watch the intense violet sky of the
east began to pale into those shades of green and grey which note the
departure of night, the bright twinkling stars that had up to then lit up
the firmament disappearing one by one as day broke. Then, rapidly,
streaks of warm, salmon-tinted clouds rose across the eastern horizon,
shot with bright golden gleams of fire, making the water of the