AH HING brought the drinks. The surgeon pushed the cigarettes over to Fung Wa Chun, and waited for him to begin.

The Chinaman tasted his drink as one accustomed to European liquids, and began:—

“I think I was born in a sampan in Hong Kong harbour; of that I’m not certain; but anyway, my earliest recollections are of living in a boat which was managed entirely by my father and mother; and there we lived, cooked, fed, and slept. We used to also take foreigners off to their ships, and from their ships to the shore, but the best times were at night. At dusk my father would get a tough string net out of the sleeping-place amidships. Each mesh of this net was heavily weighted with leaden bullets, and he’d attach it in some clever manner to the inside of the bamboo shelter we carried in the stern sheets. Mother used to steer and work a yulo aft. Father pulled an oar and managed our one sail, and any passengers we had sat under the bamboo shelter in the stern sheets.

“At night time our passengers were generally drunk, and by a simple contrivance father could pull a string when we got some way out in the harbour. The weighted net would then fall on the semi-unconscious passenger, and father and mother with a few stabs finished him off. Then came the counting of his possessions, the stripping of the body, and the throwing over of the corpse, to be found or not, as fate decided.

“I remember once we got a fare well after dark. He was a huge, yellow-haired man, very drunk, and, I think, a Scotchman. Father and mother worked the sampan out in the harbour, and then father pulled the string. The net fell, and he made two good jabs into the writhing bundle with his knife. The man kicked and fought horribly. He tore the net, nearly broke the gunwale of the boat, and at last got hold of father’s ankle in his teeth just above the heel. Father jabbed away with his knife, and didn’t dare to howl, and mother had to drop the tiller and come and help with the meat chopper. She tore our net badly, but killed the man, and then father’s ankle was released from the dead man’s mouth, also with the chopper. We found less than a dollar on that Scotchman, and my parent was lame from the bite for the rest of his life.

“Although I was very young at that time, still some of the incidents, insignificant as they were, are impressed on my memory.

“We used to have a heavy iron bar with iron grapnels, with which we dragged for drowned bodies—and not without success, in those days; but they often had little more than the clothes on them, so we never became very prosperous.

“One night we had anchored just astern of a foreign devils’ warship, and some time after dark there was a big commotion on deck. It appeared that a man had fallen overboard, and about a minute after, our sampan gave a lurch, and a spluttering white man grabbed hold of our gunwale and tried to get on board. Mother was cooking the evening rice and fish at the time, and she made a cut at one of his hands with a big knife. She chopped off four fingers, and he gave a yell. Father jumped forward at once and gave him one blow over the head with an axe, and he sank like a stone. Two or three boats were lowered from the man-of-war. They heard the man scream, and one boat came alongside us, and an officer jumped aboard. He began talking away hard in English, and grabbed father by the queue. Of course we couldn’t understand him, but mother, who was always quick-witted, suddenly picked up the four human fingers, chucked them in the stew of rice, and stirred them up hurriedly. The officer could find no reason for suspecting us, so soon shoved off in his boat to search elsewhere for the missing man. We couldn’t afford to waste rice, so after mother had picked out the fingers we had our evening meal. Then we up anchor and started to dredge with our grapnels for the dead man. It was about slack water when father killed him, so we knew he couldn’t be far off; and some two hours after we hooked on to him and dragged him up. Then I learnt where your British sailors keep their money: in a belt of flannel they wear next their skin. We took eleven dollars from that man, besides a silver finger-ring and his clothes, and then we cast him adrift. Not a bad night, although our rice had been partly spoilt by his dirty fingers.

“But these happy days were soon to be ended. When I was between nine and ten years of age the small-pox came. Father got it first, and in his delirium jumped overboard and was drowned; mother had it at the same time, and she lay down in the sleeping-space amidships. She died there the next day, and I was alone and afraid in the sampan. However, I cooked some rice and dried fish, and the next day tried to get mother out of the hold and throw her overboard. But she’d got stiff by that time, and I couldn’t move her any way. For days I continued to cook rice and try to move mother, but it was no good. As I told you, I wasn’t yet ten years old, and couldn’t yet properly manage a sampan alone; so one day the police noticed something wrong with my boat and came alongside. Then they found an old woman dead in the hold and your humble servant, aged nine and a half, in command. Being unable to escape, I had to go along with the police; and I remained about two days with them when a Chinaman came to see me, said he was my uncle, my father’s brother, and that he would care for me as his own son. Myself and the sampan, which contained no inconsiderable quantity of dollars, were handed over to this man, and he conducted me to his establishment. I’m sorry to say that this uncle was a very bad man, very bad indeed; he treated me shamefully.”

“You surprise me,” remarked the surgeon; “after the lovable description you have given of your father, it seems impossible that his brother should not have been possessed of ten thousand virtues.”

The Chinaman took no notice of this remark but proceeded.

“My life in my uncle’s house was hard and unlovely, and I should certainly have run away had I been able. He kept a gambling and boarding-house, where a man, after losing all his money, could go further and lose his body. A man who had lost all might stake his liberty against a sum of money, perhaps five dollars or more; once he’d lost this he became the property of the winner and passed into ‘the mansion of supreme blessedness,’ or, in other words, my uncle’s boarding-house; there he was kept and fed, and on occasions would be sent to sea in whatever ship required. In other words, my uncle was a crimp and supplied sailors to the foreign ships that required them. He was well known to all the China traders, and could be relied on to fill up a ship with whatever number of hands they required; in fact, I’ve known him put dead men on board if it chanced that he had not the number in ‘the mansion of supreme blessedness’ that a captain required. He’d explain that the man was drunk, carry him on board at night, and put him in the fo’c’sle when the ship was sailing next morning at daylight. He kept careful records of all he shipped and the ships they sailed in, and when the unfortunate men returned to Hong Kong my uncle would be the first on board, would have them again conducted to ‘the mansion’ to be kept till again required, and would himself draw their pay from the Shipping Office. In this way you can imagine that my wicked relation soon grew rich. Me he kept as a sort of servant to wait on the unfortunates in ‘the mansion of supreme blessedness’; and for over two years I remained there, being beaten, overworked, and underfed, and had it not been for the healthy open-air life that I had previously led I might have succumbed to the hardships; still, foul air never chokes a Chinaman, and somehow I grew and increased in strength. The ‘mansion’ must have got unusually depopulated at one time, because without any previous warning I one day found myself put on board a steamer with the remainder of my uncle’s guests. The steamer was bound for London with tea, and my job was to cook rice, etc., for the firemen and stokers. This job necessitated my turning out in every watch. I was kicked and cuffed by all the engine-room hands, and was at their beck and call day and night. Sleep I got when I could, food what I could steal, wages none, and my continual unhappiness bred in me an ever-increasing hatred of and desire for revenge on my paternal uncle. Of the voyage to England I remember nothing, and I saw nothing of London except the docks, as my work never allowed of my going ashore. I managed, however, to pick up some English from the stevedores, and after an absence of about nine months I was once more back in Hong Kong. To show you how unpopular my uncle’s methods were with some of his ‘guests,’ I may tell you that the night before we entered Hong Kong harbour three of his protÉgÉs jumped overboard and were drowned, rather than partake of his further hospitality. As was to be expected, the much-respected father of the flock was the first on board, and all the Chinese were conducted as usual to his ‘boarding-house,’ while my uncle talked politely to the captain and arranged about drawing the pay next day.

“We Chinese are an easily governed race, and it never occurred to anyone of our crowd to break away or resist my uncle’s orders, so we all went ashore and walked quietly to the ‘mansion.’ There we found a meal composed of better food than usual, and I found that my place as servant had been taken by a small boy, so I could beat and curse him, as the others did me in former days. Our condition as ‘guests’ had also greatly improved. We occasionally had money with which we could gamble, and now and then musicians to play to us in the evening. By some means my uncle found out that I could speak a little English, and from that time he had me to attend at his office all day, in case my knowledge of English might be useful. I soon picked up considerably more of the language from the English ship-captains, and in time became quite indispensable to my uncle; but throughout the whole time I was waiting but to revenge myself on him for the hardships he had made me endure as a child. I soon learnt that my ‘Tai pan,’ or head of the business, as my uncle was, was never without a shining revolver, which he carried somewhere in his loose silk jacket. He also was surrounded by secret agents and spies, who reported any matters concerning his clients or subordinates that might be of use to him. In many ways I made myself useful to my uncle. I studied the written language and learnt to keep accounts, and was soon allowed considerable freedom after ‘office hours.’ I studied to make myself indispensable to my employer, and my success and discretion in all matters entrusted to me soon raised me high in his esteem, and the importance of my work enabled me to learn much of the inner workings of his business. My uncle, when in his office, invariably sat at a heavy black wood table which faced the door, and this door was approached by a narrow passage gained by a steep staircase from the street. The whole of this passage could be seen by anyone seated at the table, and the flight of stairs leading to the street was so steep that no one from the street could see anything that might happen in the passage. As I became more necessary to my employer I also began to receive more servile treatment from the other clerks, until it became the custom that when my uncle was abroad I would take his seat and arrange myself behind his table. This pleased me excessively, and on one occasion, while seated there, I began pulling knobs and drawer handles near my seat. To my great surprise, on pulling one of these handles, two iron-grated doors closed on the passage opposite my table, their closure having the effect of barring the exit or entrance of anyone who had mounted the stair and was on his way to enter the office. All the clerks were greatly surprised and I was considerably frightened, for if my employer returned and found these iron gates closed he would know that someone had been using his table without authority. However, on jerking the handle I had moved in an opposite direction, the iron gates disappeared into slots in the passage, and my uncle entering within a few minutes, any discussion that might have taken place among us was rendered impossible. Whether this incident occupied the minds of the other clerks I know not, but it kept me awake for nights, and I determined that, should occasion arise, I’d investigate the matter further. For some days no opportunity arose, but after about ten days my uncle was obliged to go to dinner in another part of the city with certain wealthy merchants, and he left me in charge. Now was my chance—the other clerks were only too glad to get away—so soon after dusk I was alone in the office, sitting at the big black table with only a small oil-wick to light the place. For a time I smoked quietly, and when all seemed quiet I turned the handle as before. Instantly the iron gates shut-to. I reversed the handle, and they opened. Then I tried other handles—some were simply fixed on locked drawers,—but after twisting one I heard a heavy mass fall in the passage. I went to the bars with the dim oil-lamp and gazed down into a dark chasm which would make even a Chinaman shudder. I quickly returned and reversed the handle, and on again looking through the iron bars by the light of the oil-wick, I saw that the passage was once more restored with an even floor. I then reversed the handle, which made the iron doors disappear from view, and further examination of this interesting table revealed only locked drawers, in one of which I knew my uncle kept his revolver, for when in the streets he was only in the habit of carrying a knife concealed in his sleeve. After this eventful evening of big discoveries I began to mature a plan of revenge. I had by this time accumulated a few dollars, and as I was allowed considerable liberty, I could go out in the city nearly every night. One night I went out with all my dollars and purchased a shining nickel-plated revolver. The shopman wanted me to buy some cartridges as well, but I was rather afraid of them, and said that I had plenty of cartridges at home. Carefully concealing the weapon, I returned with a feeling of some slight exultation to my business house. An opportunity of carrying out my revenge occurred the very next day, my employer again going out to dinner; and later I seated myself at his table with my pistol to patiently await his return. Then for the crowning moment of my life, when I should have the cringing villain howling to me for mercy. I thought of all the cutting speeches, the recital of my wrongs, and then of the horrible climax and devilish punishment that I would mete out to him. In this way the hours of waiting passed most pleasantly.”

“I don’t doubt it for a moment,” says the surgeon quietly.

Fung Wa Chun lit another cigarette, sipped his drink, and with his face as expressionless as a bronze Buddha, continued:—

“At last I heard his footsteps on the stairs. My heart gave a jump. One step, two steps, three—would he never reach the landing? Then a pause and a faint chuckle. My revered relation was evidently slightly drunk. My hand trembled on the handle lest I should close the gates before he reached the landing. This staggering and halting was annoying, it made it difficult to count how many steps he had come up. He occasionally slipped back one, and I was getting into a fever of excitement, for the dim oil-wick I was using failed to illuminate the passage. Now he was standing on the stair and chuckling drunkenly to himself, curse him! Part of my revenge would be foiled by his having fuddled his wits with wine. I wanted him to feel all, every bit of it, and acutely too—now, perhaps, his sodden intellect might not appreciate all the refinement of horror I had stored up for him. After what seemed several minutes the sounds led me to suppose that he’d reached the top step, and there he stopped to cough and breathe hard. Then he staggered along the passage. My heart was thumping at my chest, I scarcely dared breathe. At last the moment had come. Turning the knob I heard the gates clang together, and seizing my pistol and the lamp I rushed to the grating. Inside I could see him, dazed and leaning against the wall, but no fear, no terror, only a silly drunken laugh as before. The dim light did not show his face. How was I to let him know in this his drunken state that it was I, the down-trodden servant, who was at last to hold him in this awful power?

“Gently I spoke to him, saying, ‘It is I, most honourable uncle, it is the despised and insignificant Fung Wa Chun, who presumes to address your august personage.’ ‘Let not the honourable Fung Wa Chun be afraid to disclose the gentle thoughts that are concealed in his honourable bosom,’ said a voice behind me. I turned in abject horror, my heart stopped beating, and there I saw my uncle, seated at his table, calmly pointing his shining pistol at my breast. ‘Oh, intellectual and far-seeing Fung Wa Chun,’ he murmured, ‘did you suppose that my secret agents served me so ill that I did not know that you had discovered the secret of the passage? Do you think that I was not aware of your purchase of that remarkably handsome revolver you hold in your somewhat shaky hands?’ I flung the thing from me, for I was angry, and perhaps showed unbecoming heat in my reply as I said, ‘Your deeply learned remarks are as lost on my degraded ears as the singing of the trimetrical classic would be unconvincing to the ears of a deaf monkey.’ My uncle smiled and said, ‘First I will release my honourable friend Su Wing, and then we will talk seriously.’ He pressed the button, and the inebriated Su Wing stumbled into the room, and falling into a chair, assumed an air of owlish content. My uncle then continued, ‘For one who has attempted violence on myself I seldom show mercy—the sliding floor of yonder passage could tell some curious tales. But, dear nephew, I’ve for some time observed you and your ways, and have been minded to adopt you as my son and make you my heir. I prefer to be served by fear rather than love; that you do not love me to-night’s business has proved, but that you fear me I now feel fairly certain. Therefore, I spare your life. Know, gentle nephew, that the few secrets you have discovered are nothing to what this house contains, but your future exalted position will make my spies doubly zealous in observing your every action, so to-morrow I shall publicly adopt you as my son, feeling confident that from fear you will prove a faithful if not loving descendant. Now go!’ I went to bed feeling as one who has been condemned to death and unexpectedly reprieved. That my uncle would kill me when I was discovered I had no doubt, and now finding myself released and free my sensations were more than I can describe. Bewildered, I stumbled to my bed, and almost at once fell into a deep sleep.

“What happened in the office no one knows, perhaps my uncle caroused with the bibulous Su Wing; at any rate, I was awakened from a deep sleep by a cry of fire, and found that our extensive premises were well in the power of the flames. All efforts to suppress the conflagration were vain; and next morning I, who had every prospect of being heir to a large estate, found myself homeless and penniless in Hong Kong. My uncle and the bibulous Su Wing were both presumably victims of the disaster, and I could lay no claim to a single cash saved from the ruins. For three days I nearly starved trying to find employment in Hong Kong as a clerk, and finally, to earn rice, I was obliged to take service in the police as a “lukong” or native policeman. The open-air life pleased me, but there was little money in the trade, and having no credentials, I could get nothing better, although my knowledge of English got me speedy advancement, such as it was. For some years I remained in the police, until an incident happened which made it possible for me to leave the service.

“The incident referred to happened in this way. Being on duty after midnight in the western part of the town, I heard a noise going on in a side street. I went cautiously (as our manner was) up the street, and found a well-dressed European being attacked by two chair-coolies. As soon as he saw me he shouted for help, and the two coolies ran away. I rushed up at once, and seeing the street was quite empty and that the European was nearly spent, I drew my sword and gave him a slash over the head. He dropped like a log, and I had sufficient experience in these matters to know that I’d killed him. A hasty examination of his pockets revealed a large wad of Hong Kong and Shanghai bank-notes, a gold watch and chain, and a large diamond ring on his right little finger. The notes and ring I took for myself, leaving some five dollars in loose cash in his pockets, also the watch, as I did not wish it to appear that he’d been robbed. As I removed the finger-ring I noticed that a white band remained on his little finger, as his hand was much tanned by the sun. Again my sword came in useful, and I chopped off his little finger, and threw it down a drain, at the same time blowing my whistle loudly. I was soon joined by another lukong and a European policeman. Having explained that I’d just found the man in this condition, we carried him off to the police-station. A great hue-and-cry was raised for his murderers, but they were never found. I was congratulated for my promptness in the affair by the authorities, and found that the notes amounted to two thousand dollars odd; and later I sold the ring for two hundred dollars. I remained some few months longer in the police, so as to allay any suspicion, and then resigned. With a capital of over two thousand dollars I next appeared as Ah Fung, messman to an American transport. The Americans have lordly ideas as to the cost of food, their officers are well paid, and they reckon everything in gold, so I easily made a small fortune after a few years. I take it that it’s not surprising that I know your language fairly well. With some of my savings I purchased from the local mandarin the position of chief constable in the village ashore. I am now diligently studying the classics, and at the next public examination I shall present myself as a candidate, and if successful will undoubtedly with my capital be able to obtain a position in the local government, when by strict attention to business I hope to rise to the rank of mandarin, possibly to Viceroy. Who knows!”

“I thank you,” said the surgeon. “I wish I could write stories, I should like to publish yours.”

Then Fung Wa Chun went back to his village to resume his studies of the classics.